The Ties That Bind Us
by dumbledearme
Summary: AU. Guardians protect the half-breeds. Vampires are at war with the half-breeds. Stiles is Scott's guardian and he'd do anything for him. But they are taking his choices away. They are forcing his hand. And Stiles hates to be told what to do. Sciles. Scira. Stalia. Sterica. Maybe Stydia. Possible Void Stiles. In Beacon Hills Academy anything is possible.
1. The Imbecile

First things first: I do **NOT OWN** anything related to the worlds of Teen Wolf or Vampire Academy. I don't own the characters and I don't own the stories. I don't intend to gain anything from this. It's just for fun, people. No need to be mean if you don't like it. Just tell me and we can discuss it or work something out.

So the rights belong to Richelle Mead who wrote Vampire Academy and Jeff Davis who wrote Teen Wolf.

* * *

 **Act I**  
 _"We all go a little mad sometimes..."_

Stiles hadn't had a single good night of sleep in two years. Scott wouldn't let him. Or better saying, _the guilt of Scott's haunted soul_ wouldn't let either of them rest in peace. Every night was the same. The same dream. The same nightmare. It pulsed into Stiles and shook him away from the gorgeous red-head that had been giving him a sponge bath (that was definitely what he called a dream) and wrapped him in the familiar images of the car crash.

His eyes opened. "Scott," Stiles called out in the darkness. There was no answer. Stiles called again, this time with more urgency. "Scott!" He heard his friend moving in the other bed and the tension left his body.

"I had that dream again," Scott justified without need.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I noticed."

They stayed there, quietly admiring the ceiling, until Scott decided to get up announcing his hunger to the world. Stiles sat up facing the window, attentively listening to Scott's footsteps. The moon was out and bright tonight; so bright in fact that Stiles could make out the silhouettes of trees and bushes.

And someone watching him.

Stiles stood up. The figure was about thirty feet away. It took just a moment for whoever it was to just disappear between the trees, but Stiles was sure of what he had seen. Icy fear raced through him and he bolted out of the room before you could have said _'mythological creatures suck'._

He found Scott rummaging through the refrigerator. "We have to go. Now."

Scott turned around, his eyes widening. "Are you… Are you sure?"

Stiles nodded, grabbing the car keys. Scott unhesitatingly followed him with complete faith that his friend would take care of everything. A certainty Stiles felt unworthy of.

They stepped outside, in their pajamas, their feet bare, their hands empty. Together they rushed down the street to where the car was parked. They could hear footsteps behind them. They were ten feet from the car when a girl stepped directly into their path.

She was young, maybe as young as they were. And tall for a girl, the type he could as well be dreaming about. A long, thick braid of brown hair fell down to her waist and she wore tight black clothes revealing her curves. Dark brown eyes pierced Stiles daring him to move.

Any other day, Stiles would'd considered asking her out. But his crush was irrelevant at the moment. Stiles realized they were surrounded. There were a dozen or so guardians, which was nice. It made Stiles feel like a threat. It meant they thought he was _that_ good. The queen herself didn't travel with that many guardians! And they had thought it necessary to fight someone like Stiles.

With a cocky smile, he acted out of instinct. He leaped out in an offensive maneuver he hadn't used in two years. It was stupid and reckless. A reaction born out of false confidence. And, as it turned out, also hopeless considering the girl's speed. She knocked him off as though brushing away a fly. Her hands slammed into his chest sending Stiles backwards. He slammed onto the floor, gasping. He tried to get back up, but suddenly Scott was kneeling beside him.

"Don't," he asked.

Stiles sagged in defeat.

Sensing there'd be no more fighting from him, the girl stepped forward, turning her attention to Scott. "I'm Malia Tate," she said formally. "I'm here to take you back to the Academy, Mr McCall."

She made a point of sitting beside Stiles in the airplane. He didn't care. He knew it was so she could watch him and make sure he wouldn't try to escape, but unfortunately, Malia Tate also wanted to talk.

"Were you really going to attack us all?" she asked with an amused type of curiosity. Instead of answering, Stiles stared out the window absentmindedly. "Wow," she continued sounding unimpressed. "You imbecile. Why did you even try?"

Stiles glanced at her. He knew he was blushing and that angered him. "I'm his guardian," he said with as much dignity as the title could grant someone.

Malia Tate turned serious. "Well, it was stupid," she remarked, "but really brave." She moved, scanning the airplane for threats or something, and Stiles caught a glimpse of a tiny symbol tattooed on the back of her neck. The mark of a vampire slayer.

He pointed at it. "When did you get…?" The look she gave him made perfectly clear she was not going to discuss that with him. Stiles didn't insist, but thought the tattoo looked quite new. "Aren't you a little young to be a guardian?"

"Aren't you?"

"I'm not licensed," he admitted.

Her face softened. "I know. You haven't graduated yet."

"And you have?"

"With honors," she added pompously. "I had enough credits to graduate earlier. This is my first official assignment though."

"Congrats," he mumbled with jealousy thinking he would do anything to graduate early. Anything but study, that is.

When they arrived, Stiles asked Malia if they were being taken to Finstock.

"Principal Finstock," she corrected.

"I don't give a–" His words were cut short when they went through a set of doors right into the cafeteria. And it was breakfast time. Novice guardians and the half-breeds raised their heads to watch them come through. Stiles returned their stares with a lazy grin.

Everything looked the same, he noticed.

Jackson Whittemore still looked like the major jerk he was when Scott and Stiles left. Kate Argent, that shy girl, watched them with big, innocent eyes. Erica Reyes, who loved breaking rules, smiled and gave them the thumbs up. Hayden Romero, who always had a major crush on Scott, looked as hot as ever and watched them with interest. The only difference was that beside her now sat a golden haired boy who gave Scott and Stiles a look of pure hatred.

Stiles had no memory of ever wronging that boy. Or ever seeing him for that matter. But all badasses had enemies, right? Sometimes it was hard to keep track of that.

The walk of shame ended in Finstock's office. He looked exactly like Stiles remembered – pug faced, unkempt hair, crazy eyes. His office was just as disorganized. Stiles hated the place. He had spent a great amount of time in there.

"Scott." There was someone else in the room. Gerard Argent stepped out of the shadows, moving with difficulty.

"Gerard," said Scott greeting the family friend.

"I'm glad to see you safe, boy. And you, Stiles."

Stiles nodded back, trying to hide his shock. Gerard Argent looked on the verge of dying. He was Kate's father, only about forty, but he looked twice that age. Pale. Withered. Stiles wondered if he was going through one of those skin changes snakes did. He was a Nix after all; a shapeshifting water spirit.

"…responsibility reckless behavior!" Finstock was saying. "Self-centeredness…" _Bleh_. Stiles completely spaced out until the man shouted his name again. "Are you listening to me, Stilinski?"

Stiles blinked. "Yeah, sure."

"It wasn't his fault," ventured Scott. His voice and face were calm. "I wanted to go. It was my idea."

Finstock paced the office. "Mr McCall, you could have been the one who orchestrated the entire plan for all I know, but it was still Mr Stilinski's responsibility to make sure you didn't carry it out. If he'd done his duty, he would have notified someone. If he'd done his duty, he would've kept you safe."

"I did nothing _but_ my duty!" snapped Stiles. "I kept him safe. For two years. I kept him safe when none of you could do it. I took him away to protect him. I did what I had to do-"

"Forgive me if I fail to see the logic of how taking Mr McCall out of a heavily guarded, magically secured environment is protecting him, Stilinski!" shouted Finstock. "The only reason you left, aside from the novelty of it, was to avoid the consequences of that horrible, destructive stunt you pulled just before—"

"That's not—"

"And that only makes my decision that much easier. Mr McCall must continue here for his own safety, but we have no such obligations to you. You will be sent away as soon as possible."

"I… what?"

Scott straightened up. "You can't do that. He's my guardian!"

"He is no such thing, particularly since he isn't even a guardian at all. He's a novice."

"But my parents—"

"I know what they wanted, Mr McCall, but Stilinski here is quite expendable. He doesn't deserve to be a guardian, and he will leave. God, if you were a magical being, Stilinski, you'd be a Puck. Mischievous little bastards—"

Stiles stared at Finstock. "Where are you going to send me? To my dad? You know what's gonna happen if you do that, right? He's just gonna send me right back!"

"They have a bond," Malia Tate said suddenly before Finstock could reply. All eyes fell on her but she didn't seem to care. She looked Stiles dead in the face. "You feel what he fells, don't you? You see what he sees."

Finstock glanced between Stiles and Scott. "That's not possible. It hasn't happened in—"

"I suspected as soon as I started watching them," said Malia.

"That is a gift," murmured Gerard Argent from his corner. "A rare wonderful thing."

"Only the best guardians had that bond," added Malia. " _You_ taught us that, Principal Finstock. You said, in the stories-"

"Stories are no more than that!" exclaimed Finstock outraged. "And remember your place, Guardian Tate, you have barely left the Academy."

"Forgive me if I have given any offense. I merely meant that... he might be mentally challenged and disrespectful, but if he has the potential—"

"Mentally challenged? Disrespectful?" interrupted Stiles. "Who the hell are you anyway? You can't talk to me like that. I-"

Again, they didn't let him finish. "Guardian Tate, with the success of this rescue operation, has been granted the position you so desire, Stilinski. She is now Mr McCall's guardian. His _sanctioned_ guardian."

"Why? What does she know? Because she got good grades, she's better than me? Please. She knows nothing about Scott. How is she going to protect him?"

Finstock threw his hands up in exasperation. "You undisciplined little—! All the psychic bonds and very raw potential in the world wouldn't make me keep you here if you paid me, Stilinski! A guardian without discipline is worse than no guardian."

"Then teach him," pushed Malia. "Get him training again."

"Impossible. He'll be hopelessly behind his peers."

"No, I won't!"

"Then give him extra training sessions," insisted Malia. Stiles raised an eyebrow. He tried to control his anger. She was pushing so hard he wondered what she had to gain with that.

"Who's going to put in the extra time?" demanded Finstock. "Everybody hates Stilinski. Unless… unless you're offering…?"

Malia stumbled in her own words. "I… Well, that's not what I—"

Finstock smiled. "See? He's not worth it."

Clearly at a loss, Malia frowned. Her eyes flickered toward Scott and Stiles, and the latter wondered what she was seeing. "Yes," she said finally. "I'll teach him. I'll give extra sessions along with the normal ones."

Nobody said anything else. Everyone seemed quite shocked.

Then Gerard Argent suddenly spoke. "I'm inclined to agree with Guardian Tate. Sending Stiles away would be a shame, a waste of talent."

Finstock wanted to die. "If Stilinski stays, here's how it will be." The crazy eyes focused on Stiles. "Your continued enrollment is probationary. Step out of line once and you're gone. You will attend all classes and required training for novices your age. You will also train with Guardian Tate in every spare moment you have: before _and_ after classes. Other than that, you are banned from all social activities, except meals. Listen to me, Stilinski, I don't ever want to see your face in this office again. Ever again. You were never properly punished for destroying school property. You have a lot to make up for."

Stiles exhaled. "Fine. I'll behave," he promised.

* * *

Lots of people still coming to Beacon Hills! Be prepared...


	2. The Usurpers

Sending them straight to class was super cruel but Stiles could see how much Finstock enjoyed doing that. And worse: he actually made Stiles go see the guidance counselor first! Marin Morrell had dark skin, straight black hair and brown dead-fish eyes. She was that kind of person who always answered your questions with _more_ questions. Luckily, she said nothing about Stiles's return and asked very few questions about what he had done while away. She gave him his new schedule and sent him on his way.

Malia and another guardian, Chris Argent (no relation to Gerard or Kate), escorted Stiles to the guardian's gym for first period. Since seventy percent of the people in Beacon Hills Academy were creatures of the night, they all had to take on a night's schedule. Seeing the sun was a luxury most of them didn't have.

Once there, again all eyes fell on Stiles. He thought better to pretend he was a rock-god, although some of the looks he was getting made him feel like a circus freak. But he wasn't going to let them intimidate him. He'd once ruled this school! Of course most of the credit was due Scott's status, but still...

Stiles scanned the crowd for a familiar face. Most of them were guys. Typical. But one of the few girls caught his eye and he grinned.

"Wipe that smile off your face, Stilinski," she said faking annoyance. "If you're going to think about me naked, do it on your free time."

A few snorts and snickers broke the awed silence. Erica Reyes was looking good. Her crazy-looking blond hair went in all directions but Stiles had to admit it was kind of hot. She set her sexy cat-like eyes on him and everything felt like it was before.

He stepped forward with a shrug. "It's always free time for me, E."

"Well, I guess now as good time as any" she muttered.

"It's always a good a time to think about you naked, Erica," added Boyd, another one of Stiles's friends.

Malia Tate shook her head and walked off. Chris Argent followed her. As for Stiles, he was glad, his friends made him feel right at home. The instructor then barked orders for all of them and Erica picked Stiles as her partner. "Let's see what you've been doing all this time." An hour later, she had her answer. "Not practicing, huh?" Erica extended a hand and helped Stiles up from the mat.

"I hate you," Stiles told her, staggering along as the class put the equipment back.

"Well, of course you do. But hey, you're still walking. That's something." She grinned mockingly. Then her face turned serious. "What are you going to do now, Stiles? There's no way you'll be able to take your trials in the spring. Not like this."

"They're making me take extra practice sessions," he explained. "I'll be ready."

"Extra sessions with whom?"

"That tall girl. Tate."

Erica stopped walking and stared at him. "You're putting in extra time with Tate?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"So the girl's insane. Don't you remember her? She was a foreign student, right? All quiet and antisocial? Barely left her dorm and used to kick everybody's asses? We all hated her, remember? I guess she was so lonely she put on so much extra time she graduated earlier. Man, she's going to destroy you!"

Stiles had the vague memory of the person Erica described. Only he didn't remember her being so pretty. Or maybe he never _really_ noticed her before...

The next class covered the essentials of being a bodyguard of magical creatures. The instructor, Adrian Harris, was around his thirties and he always looked pissed off. That look intensified when he saw Stiles.

"Stilinski, what a privilege! How very generous of you to take time out of your busy schedule and share your knowledge with us."

In a great show of self-control, Stiles kept his mouth shut. He was perfectly aware that a few guardians, including Malia Tate, lingered in the back of the room. Outside the Academy, guardians focused on one-on-one protection. Here, they worked shifts guarding the school as a whole and monitoring classes.

"So, Stilinski," said Harris cheerfully. "Enlighten us about your protective techniques. Presumably you must have had some sort of plan the rest of us couldn't understand when you took an underage half-breed royal out of the Academy and exposed him to constant threats."

"We never ran into any vamps," Stiles replied stiffly.

"That is obvious," said Harris with a snicker, "seeing as how you're still alive." Stiles didn't respond. "So what'd you do? How'd you make sure McCall stayed safe? Did you avoid going out at night? I suppose you slept during the day and stayed on guard at night."

Stiles hesitated. "Er... no."

"No? But that's one of the first things mentioned in the chapter on solo guarding. Oh wait... you wouldn't know that because you weren't here."

"Look, I kept Scott safe," said Stiles angrily. "I watched him. He's still alive, isn't he?"

Harris crossed his arms. "Because you got lucky."

Stiles shook his head. "It's safer out there than you guys make it sound."

"Safer? We're at war with the usurpers!" Harris yelled. "A full-grown vampire could walk right up to you and snap your neck before you even noticed him. You might have the advantage of not being harmed by the sun, but you are nothing compared to the Cold Ones. They are deadly, and they are powerful. And do you know what makes them more powerful?"

"Magical blood," Stiles answered begrudgingly.

Harris nodded in satisfaction. "Yes. It does. It makes them stronger and harder to destroy. They'll kill and drink from humans, but they want magical blood more than anything else. They seek it. They've turned to the dark side to gain immortality, and they want to do whatever they can to keep it. Groups of Cold Ones have raided academies exactly like this one. There are those who are almost impossible to kill. And that is why our numbers are dropping. We aren't strong enough."

Stiles stared at his own hands. He knew Harris was waiting for him to start yelling, throwing things, making hell. He was not going to give him the satisfaction.

"Well," said Harris watching Stiles carefully. "It looks like you've learned something after all: how to control your temper. Now we'll have to see if you can learn enough to pass this class and qualify for your field experience next semester."

Two classes later, Stiles finally earned his breakfast escape. He stumbled across campus toward the commons, when Malia Tate fell into step beside him.

"Wanna teach me a lesson too?" he asked.

"No," she said dryly. "I was just wondering... Was Guardian Harris right? Do you think you were fully prepared to protect Scott McCall out there?"

Stiles stopped walking. "I did keep him alive," he told her.

"How did you do fighting against your classmates today?"

Stiles didn't answer and knew he didn't need to. He'd had another training class after Harris's, and no doubt Malia Tate had watched him get beat up there too.

"If you can't fight them-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he snapped.

"You have the necessary skills. You just need to keep yourself trained. Didn't you play any sports while you were gone?"

Stiles shrugged. "Now and then."

"You didn't join any teams?"

"If I'd wanted to practice that much, I'd have stayed here."

Malia Tate gave Stiles an exasperated look. "You'll never be able to really protect McCall if you don't hone your skills. You'll always be lacking."

"I am able to protect him," Stiles said fiercely.

"You have no guarantees of being assigned to him, you know, for your field experience or after you graduate." Malia's voice was low and unapologetic. "No one wants to waste the bond, but no one's going to give him an inadequate guardian either. If you want to be with him, then you need to work for it. You're an ideal choice to guard Scott McCall when you both graduate, if you can prove you're worthy."

Malia Tate walked away, and suddenly, Stiles didn't feel like such a badass anymore. He was about to resume his way to the commons when a voice called to him. "Mr Argent... uh... Your Highness," he mumbled. "Hi."

Gerard Argent smiled as he leaned on a cane. His two guardians stood nearby. "I wanted to tell you..." he spoke hesitantly. "I understand the gravity of what you did, but I think Principal Finstock failed to acknowledge something. You did keep Scott safe all this time. That is impressive."

"Well, it's not like I had to face vampires or anything."

"But you faced some things?"

"A troll."

"Remarkable."

"Not really. Avoiding trolls is pretty easy. They're quite dumb. But I guess I was lucky. It turns out I'm really behind in all this guardian stuff."

"You're a smart boy. You'll catch up. And you also have your... _bond_."

Stiles looked away. It felt weird to have others know about it.

"The histories are full of stories of guardians who could feel when their charges were in danger," continued Gerard. "I've made a hobby of studying up on it and some of the ancient ways. I've heard it's a tremendous asset."

 _What a boring hobby,_ Stiles thought, but didn't say anything.

Gerard tilted his head, curiosity all over his face. "What is it like... if you don't mind me asking?"

"It's... I don't know. I just sort of always have this hum of how he feels. Usually it's just emotions. We can't send messages."

"But it doesn't work the other way? Scott doesn't sense you?"

Stiles shook his head.

Gerard face shone with wonder. "I can still barely believe this. It's been so long since this has happened. If it did happen more often... just think what it could do for the safety of all magic folk. If only others could experience this too. I'll have to do more research and see if we can replicate it with others."

Stiles was getting impatient. Breakfast hour was ticking away.

"Perhaps we could-" Gerard started coughing, a great, seizing fit that made his whole body shake. "I'll be leaving you now," he gasped. "Thank you for speaking to me. I can't emphasize how much it means to me that Scott is safe, and that you helped with that."

They made their goodbyes, and Stiles finally arrived inside the school just in time to see Scott getting punched in the face by the blond boy that seemed to hate them so much. Cursing, Stiles jumped in the middle of that chaos. He pulled the boy from Scott and threw him over one of the tables.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Gold Guy got up, blue eyes wide and sparkling with fury. He was short and looked like a ten year old who had worked out more than he should have.

"Are you lost?" asked Stiles. "Elementary school's over on west campus."

A pink flush spread over his cheeks. "Don't you ever touch me again. You screw with me, and I'll screw you right back."

 _Oh man..._ what an opening that was. Stiles had his mouth open already when Scott stopped him from unleashing hilarious comebacks. But Stiles wasn't nearly done. "And if you mess with either of us again, I'll break you in half. If you don't believe me, go ask Greenberg about what I did to his arm in ninth grade. You were probably at nap time when it happened."

The incident with Greenberg had given Stiles a dangerous reputation, in addition to his smartass one. And judging from the look on this boy's face, he'd heard about it. With another look of pure hatred, the guy walked away.

Suddenly very pleased with himself, Stiles turned to Scott. "Any idea who I just threatened to beat up?"


	3. The Pity Party

"So how'd classes go?" asked Stiles.

Scott shrugged. He'd been real quiet during the rest of breakfast time. Werewolves were quite serious about their meal. "Lots of stares. _A lot_ of stares. Lots of questions about where we were. Whispering."

Stiles gave Scott a sidelong glance. "You okay with that? They aren't bothering you, are they?"

"No - it's fine." The emotions coming through the bond contradicted his words. Stiles was about to push him when someone sat at their table. Kate Argent. Stiles and Scott exchanged looks. Kate was nice but also one of the most uninteresting people they knew. Pretty, but her looks weren't worth having to listen to her. She threw her arms around them like they'd been good friends.

"You're back! I knew you would be! Everyone said you were gone forever, but I never believed that. I knew you couldn't stay away. Why'd you go? There are so many stories about why you left! Someone said you went off to hang out with Stiles's dad, but I figured Principal Finstock and Daddy wouldn't have been so upset if you'd turned up there. So..." On and on she chatted, batting her eyelashes. Stiles smiled politely and let Scott deal with the onslaught.

Ignoring the conversation, Stiles took in the old faces, trying to figure out who was hanging out with whom and how power had shifted within the school. Erica, sitting with a group of novices, caught his eye, and Stiles smiled. Near her, a group of half-breeds sat, laughing over something. Hayden Romero and the blond guy sat there too.

"Hey, Kate," said Stiles, turning around and cutting her off. She didn't seem to notice or mind. "Who's Hayden's new boytoy?"

"Huh? _Oh._ Liam Dunbar." Seeing Stiles's blank look, she asked, "Don't you remember him?"

Apparently, there was a whole group of people Stiles didn't remember. "Should I? Was he here when we left?"

"He's always been here," said Kate. "He's only a year younger than us."

Stiles glanced at Scott, who only shrugged. "Why is he so pissed off at us?" he asked. "Neither of us know him."

"I don't know," answered Kate. "Maybe he's jealous about Hayden. He wasn't much of anybody when you guys left. He got really popular really fast. I think he's an undine...? And once he started dating Hayden, he - "

"Okay, thanks," Stiles interrupted wishing she'd just shut up already.

Scott and Stiles got to sit together in their shared morning classes but didn't do much talking. The stares and the whispers certainly did follow them, but slowly, gradually, people seemed to remember who they were, and the novelty of their crazy escape wore off. But none of that made Scott feel better. Stiles could feel anxiety and sadness pouring out of him.

"All right," he said when classes finally ended. "We're not staying here. I'm going to find a way to get us out."

"You think we could really do it a second time?" Scott asked quietly.

"Absolutely." Stiles spoke with certainty, again relieved Scott couldn't read _his_ feelings. Escaping again would be a real bitch.

"You really would, wouldn't you?" Scott smiled. "Of course you would. It's just, well... I don't know if we should go. Maybe... maybe we should stay."

Stiles blinked in astonishment. "What?"

"I saw you, Stiles. You miss this. Practicing and everything."

"It's not worth it," Stiles argued. "Not if... not if you..." he couldn't finish. Stiles had missed the other novices. He'd missed the Academy. But there was more to it than just that. The weight of his inexperience, how much he'd fallen behind. Part of him felt like it was irresponsible to put Scott under his care when he couldn't even keep up with class.

"It might be better," Scott countered. "I haven't had as many... you know, I haven't felt like anyone was following or watching me."

Stiles didn't say anything to that. After the car crash that had killed his parents, Scott started to feel depressed and paranoid. He always felt like someone was following him, like he was being hunted. Stiles had never seen evidence to support that, but once he'd heard one of the teachers go on and on about the same sort of thing. _Peter Hale._

"You never know who's watching," Peter Hale used to say. "Or who's following you. Best to be safe. Best to always be safe."

Stiles was pretty sure Peter had been crazy.

He sighed. "We can stay, I guess... but there are a few conditions. I want you to stay away from the royals." There were a few families of half-breeds that were considered royalty. This included the McCalls, the Argents, the Romeros, the Hales and some of the others. The ones who were usually the target of the vampire war. If the Cold Ones could eliminate all the royals, then they would be free to rule the rest of the magical folk.

"Are you serious?" asked Scott.

"Sure. You never liked them anyway."

Scott's eyes stared off, not really focused on any one thing. "I've... I've got to be a part of them. I can't avoid it."

"The hell you do. Kate stays out of that stuff."

"Kate isn't going to inherit her family's title," Scott retorted. "I've already got it. I've got to be involved, start making connections."

"You know what? You keep me around to tell you the truth, and here it is: everyone you love is dead. I'm sorry. But you're the heir now, and you're going to deal with it however you can and not how they used to do. And for now, that means staying away from the other royals. We'll just lie low. Coast through the middle. Get involved in that stuff again, Scott, and you'll drive yourself..."

"Crazy?" he supplied. "Fine. We'll stay and we'll keep out of all that stuff like you want."

That wasn't exactly what Stiles wanted. He wanted to go to all the royal parties and wild drunken festivities like they'd done before. It was easy for him, because he didn't really have to deal with the politics of it. He was smart, outgoing, and didn't mind getting into trouble and pulling crazy stunts. The others liked having him around for the fun of it. Scott had to deal with other matters. The McCalls were one of the twelve ruling families. He'd have a very powerful place in magical society, and the other young royals wanted to get in good with him. But all that had eventually taken its toll on Scott, and Stiles hated to see him upset and stressed.

"All right then," he said finally. "We'll see how this goes. If anything goes wrong... anything at all... we leave. No arguments."

Scott nodded.

"Stiles?" Malia Tate appeared behind them. "You're late for practice," she said. Seeing Scott, she gave a polite nod. "Mr McCall."

Stiles was following her across campus when it happened. He'd been worrying about Scott because his emotions spiked all over the place. Confusion. Nostalgia. Fear. Anticipation. Strong and powerful, they pulled Stiles into Scott's mind.

Scott walked slowly around the commons, toward the small Orthodox chapel that served most of the school's religious needs. Glancing around, he verified that neither the priest nor any worshippers were close by. The place was empty. Slipping through a doorway in the back of the chapel, he climbed a narrow set of creaky stairs up into the attic. Here, the only light came through a large stained-glass window.

The anxiety in Scott ebbed away slightly as he took in the familiar surroundings. He climbed up into the window seat and leaned his head back against its side. Most of the night creatures hated the sun or couldn't be exposed to it. Not Scott; he actually liked it. And here, protected by the glass's dilution of the rays he could enjoy the sunlight.

Then a low voice spoke from the darkness. "You can have the Academy but not the window seat."

Scott sprang up, heart pounding. "Who's there?"

A shape rose from behind a stack of crates. A Japonese girl, with straight black hair and brown eyes. Kira Yukimura. "Don't worry," she said. "I won't bite."

Scott realized he had completely forgotten about Kira. So had Stiles. But no matter what happened in their world, a few basic truths about mythological creatures remained the same: they were good, they were alive. Vampires, on the other hand, were undead. The ones like Scott, they were mortal; vampires were immortal. And anyone could be made into a vampire, that was the worst part. Some people even choose to be turned into one. Doing that was considered dark and twisted, the greatest of all sins against nature.

And that's what Kira's parents had done. A lot of people thought they were responsible for the attacks on royals. Then a regiment of guardians had hunted them down and killed them. If rumors were true, Kira had witnessed it all. And although she wasn't a vampire herself, some people thought she wasn't far off.

After all, she was _also_ the niece of one Peter Hale. It was a recipe for disaster.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asked.

"Taking in the sights, of course. That chair with the tarp on it is particularly lovely this time of year. Over there, we have an old box full of writings of the. And let's not forget that beautiful table with no legs in the corner."

Scott rolled his eyes and moved toward the door, wanting to leave, but Kira blocked the way.

"Well, what about you?" she taunted. "Why are you up here? Don't you have parties to go to or lives to destroy?"

"Wow, that's fantastic. Some guy I don't even know sucker-punched me in the cafeteria today, and now I've got to deal with you? What does it take to be left alone?"

"Ooooh, so that's why you're up here. For a pity party."

"This isn't a joke. I'm serious."

Kira shrugged and leaned casually against the sloping wall. "So am I. I love pity parties. I wish I'd brought the hats. What do you want to mope about first? How it's going to take you a whole day to be popular and loved again?"

Scott made a sour face before pushing Kira aside.

"Wait," she said, the sarcasm gone from her voice. "What... um, what was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"Being out there. Away from Beacon Hills."

Scott hesitated. "It was great. No one knew who I was. I was just another face. Not a werewolf. Not royal. Not anything."

"It's kind of hard to outlive your past, isn't it?" Kira said bitterly.

Scott started to feel bad for her. People treated her like she didn't exist. Like she was a ghost. They didn't talk to or about her. They just didn't notice her. Trying to lighten the mood, he said, "Wait... is this your pity party now?"

Kira laughed. "I have to make sure I stay near the chapel as much as possible so people know I'm not a vampire." Vampires couldn't step on holy ground.

"I remember," said Scott. "You've always attended mess. Is that the only reason you go? To look good?"

"Sure," she said. "Why else go? For the good of my soul?"

Scott smiled. "I'll leave you alone then."

"Wait," she said again. She didn't seem to want him to go. "Look, go grab the window seat. You can have it today and hang out for a while. We can share."

Scott seemed glad about that. Gingerly, he sat back down in the window seat. Kira watched him and Scott met her eyes. He smiled again; she was cute.

Then Stiles snapped out of the vision. _Ugh, typical Scott._ So much for staying away from royals.

* * *

Long live the Kitsune


	4. The Heathen

"Stiles? Stiles?" Blinking, Stiles focused on Malia's face. She was leaning toward him, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Are you all right?"

"I... yeah. I was... I was with Scott..." Stiles put a hand to his forehead. "I was in his head."

"His... _head?_ "

"Yeah. It's part of the psychic bond."

"Is he all right?"

"Yeah, he's... not in danger."

"Can you keep going?" The hard, stoic warrior was gone, just for a moment, and she actually looked concerned.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Stiles went into the gym and suggested to Malia that maybe she should let him off this time. She laughed, and it was a pretty laugh, but Stiles felt like she was laughing more at him than rather with him.

"Why is that funny?"

"Oh," she said, her smile dropping. "You were serious."

"Look, I've technically been awake for two days. Why do we have to start this training now? Let me go to bed," Stiles whined. "It's just one hour."

Malia crossed her arms and looked down at Stiles. Her earlier concern was gone. "How do you feel right now? After the training you've done so far?"

"I hurt like hell."

"You'll feel worse tomorrow."

"So?"

"So, better to jump in now while you still feel... _not as bad_."

"What kind of logic is that?" he retorted, but he didn't argue anymore as Malia led him into the weight room. She showed him the weights and reps she wanted him to do, then sprawled in a corner with a book. When Stiles finished, Malia stood beside him and demonstrated a few cool-down stretches. Stiles watched her, and she was so pretty he scolded himself for never having noticed her before. She looked almost... _exotic_.

"Where are you from?" he asked. "You don't look... eh, American..."

She didn't answer right away. Stiles got the feeling she didn't talk about herself often.

"Nazilli."

"Oh. Cool. I once saw this documentary about the Nazis and... Wait... Where the hell is that again?"

A glint of something, maybe amusement, sparked in her dark eyes. "Turkey."

"Nice," Stiles said. "And... did you help come up with the plan to get us back? Because it was pretty good. Brute force and all that."

Malia arched an eyebrow curiously. "You're complimenting me on capturing you?"

"Well, it was a hell of a lot better than the last one they tried."

"Last one?"

"Yeah. In Portland. You know, the troll."

She frowned. "This was the first time we found you."

Stiles sat up from his stretches. "Um, I don't think I imagined that troll. He smelled pretty badly. Who else could have sent him? Maybe no one told you about it."

"Maybe," she said dismissively.

Stiles returned to the novices' dorm after that. The novices' dorm was built in a more open way than the rest of the school, allowing for more light, something Stiles was incredibly thankful for. He had his own room because there were so few novices. It was small and plain, with a twin bed and a desk with a computer. His few belongings sat in boxes around the room.

Someone had let a note on his pillow. It was short: _Glad you're back. What you did was inexcusable. Dad._ Shaking his head, Stiles smashed the note and threw it in the trash can.

He went to bed and passed out. Just as Malia had predicted, he felt ten times worse when he woke up the next morning. But he figured the only way to prevent getting his ass kick again was to go endure some more training. He survived the before-school practice with Malia and his subsequent classes without passing out.

Later, outside science class, Stiles told Scott he saw him with Kira Yukimura.

"You were in my head again?" Scott exclaimed. "For that long?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," Stiles argued. "It just happen-" Stiles got distracted when he realized the corridor he was in. Peter Hale, back in the day, used to wander campus a lot. It was pretty creepy. Stiles had run into him once, unexpectedly, in this corridor. It was after hours and everyone was supposed to be in their rooms, but Stiles went out to hang out with some people.

"You should be more careful," Peter Hale had said. "Your instructors would be disappointed." Being in class with Peter Hale while surrounded by other students was one thing. Standing outside alone with him was an entirely different matter. But instead of calling someone, Peter Hale only smiled. "Go back to your dorm, Stiles. There are bad things out here. You never know what's following you."

Stiles jumped back to the present, unsettled by the memory of that night. Scott, in the meantime, was telling him about Kira. As much as the two of them hanging out bothered Stiles, it gave him an idea.

The next day, he rushed to Finstock office. Finstock raised his crazy eyes from some paperwork. "Remember when I said I NEVER wanted to see-"

"I just need to ask you something," cut Stiles.

Finstock closed his eyes for a moment and took deep relaxing breaths. "Yes, Stilinski?"

"Does my house arrest mean I can't go to church?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said that whenever I'm not in class or practice, I have to stay in the dorm. But what about church on Sundays? I don't think it's really fair to keep me away from my religious, um, needs."

Finstock looked really annoyed. "I wasn't aware you had any religious needs."

"I found Jesus while I was gone."

"Isn't your father an atheist?" he asked skeptically.

"My mom was a Christian. And anyway, I can choose my own path. You shouldn't keep me from it."

Finstock made a noise that sort of sounded like a snicker. "No, Stilinski, I should not. You may attend services on Sundays."

Stiles was glad. Church was every bit as lame as he remembered but he did get to sit next to Scott which made him feel like he was getting away with something. Mostly he just people-watched. Kira sat on the opposite side of the aisle, pretending to be just as holy as she'd said. Malia sat in the back, face lined with shadows. Stiles wondered if she even listened to the service. _He_ tuned in and out.

"Following God's path is never easy," the priest was saying. "Specially to us, half-breeds. Some of us feel like they are unworthy of the light. That is not true. We all have our place. We are not abominations. Even the regular folk, the humans, our guardians, are enthralled just to be in our presence. If you follow the path of the light, you can have great spirit. You can stop floods. You can heal people. You can be good too."

Stiles took a nap just then. When he woke up, Hayden Romero was sitting beside Scott, whispering something.

"You're kidding," Scott whispered back.

Hayden shook her head. "Nope."

Scott turned. "Stiles, you know Jackson Whittemore's dad? His guardian wants to resign. And marry another guardian."

Now that was a scandal!

"Seriously? Are they, like, going to run off together?"

Hayden nodded. "They're getting a house. Going to get jobs with humans, I guess."

Stiles was impressed. Those guardians were fighting the system they'd been trained to believe in their entire lives. Guardians weren't allowed to be married, unless it was to the half-breed they protected, but that hardly ever happened. Their priority should be the half-breed they were assigned to protect. They were required to have at least one kid and send them be raised by a magical family so they could grow to be a guardian too. For Stiles, it had been the McCalls. He never saw his dad because the man was too busy being a guardian. And seeing his example, Stiles believed wholeheartedly that it was a guardian's job to protect his charge. Above anything else. Above _everything_ else.

Mr Whittemore's guardian was abandoning his duties because of a whim. And now two magical families would be unprotected. And what for? A fling? Particularly one that involved running away? A complete waste. A disgrace.

When Scott and Stiles stepped outside, a pile of slush slid off the chapel's roof and onto them. Very wet and very cold. Stiles yelped as icy water landed on his hair and neck. Stiles glanced up as Liam Dunbar walked over and looped his arm around Hayden's neck. Stiles remembered what Kate Argent had said about Liam being an undine.

From what Stiles knew, undines were elemental beings associated with water. They were almost invariably depicted as being female, which was maybe why this guy kind of looked like a girl. And if Stiles recalled perfectly, undines acquired their souls by falling in love. But there was a catch: if the person they loved was unfaithful, the undine was fated to die. Stiles didn't know how much of this was true and how much was a myth, but it was likely the reason why Liam Dunbar was trying so hard to keep Hayden away from Scott.

"You know, Finstock will probably have something to say when he finds out you used magic against another student," Stiles pointed out.

"That wasn't an attack," Liam scoffed. "And it wasn't me. It was an act of God."

A few others laughed.

"Oh, yeah?" said Stiles taking a step toward him. "So is this," and he slammed Liam into the side of the church. But before he could do anything else (like smash the guy's face), Scott grabbed him from behind and pulled Stiles away. "Let's go," he muttered.

They walked off toward the dorms, leaving behind laughter and jokes. "You know," he said, "I'm thinking more and more that you stealing Hayden back is a good thing," he joked.

Scott looked serious. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

"I'm not interested in revenge." Scott cut Stiles a sidelong look. "And you shouldn't be either."

Stiles smiled as innocently as he could, and when they parted ways, he felt relieved again that Scott couldn't read his thoughts.

"So when's the big fight going to happen?" Erica was waiting for Stiles outside the dorm.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Come on, I saw you guys sparring outside the chapel. Have you no respect for the house of God?"

Stiles snorted. "You've got about as much respect for it as I do, you heathen. You didn't even go."

"And you still didn't answer the question. Tell me, Stiles, are you just going to turn around and punch him one day?"

"If I do that, I'll have broken my probation with Finstock. Gotta walk the straight and narrow."

"Then find some way to get back at him without getting into trouble." A wicked smile tug at the corners of her lips.

"You know what I like about you, Erica? You and I are the same."

Erica looked smug. "Only I'm smarter. And I might know something about him." Stiles leaned forward. "His parents work for one of the royals. Cleaning stuff. Practically servants. His dad cuts grass, and his mom's a maid."

Stiles actually had a healthy respect for anyone who pulled a full day's work, regardless of the job. People everywhere had to do crappy stuff to make a living. But Liam Dunbar was trying to pass himself off as something he was not.

"No one knows?" he asked thoughtfully.

"And he doesn't want them to," said Erica. "They'd give him a hard time over it. You know how these people are."

Stiles was thoughtful. "Don't we all?"


	5. The Maero

A couple of weeks passed and Stiles and Scott began to fall into a semi-comfortable routine. Stiles' days revolved around church, meals with Scott, classes and training with Malia. And as more time passed, Stiles' body stopped hating him. His muscles grew tougher, and his stamina increased.

A routine also developed between him and Malia. Erica had been right about Malia being antisocial, although Malia tried hard to hang out with the other guardians: she was the youngest among them and she had to earn her place. As far as Stiles could see, it was pretty clear they already respected her. And the more Stiles worked with her, the more he respected her too.

Only he didn't quite get her training methods. They always started by stretching in the gym, and lately she'd been sending Stiles outside to run.

One day, Stiles walked into the gym and found Malia sprawled on a mat, reading a book. She had brought in a portable CD player and was listening to the _'Unchained Melody'._

"Whoa," he said. "Do you think we could maybe listen to something that wasn't recorded before I was born?"

Her eyes flicked toward him but the rest of her posture remained the same. " _We_ aren't going to be listening to anything. You'll be outside running."

Stiles made a face and started stretching.

"Hey," he asked, "what's with all the running, anyway? I mean, I realize the importance of stamina and all that, but shouldn't I be moving on to something with a little hitting? They're still killing me in group practice."

"Maybe you should hit harder," she replied dryly.

"I'm serious."

"My job is to get you ready to defend Scott McCall and fight Vampires, right?"

"Yup."

"So tell me this: suppose you manage to kidnap McCall again and take him off on a date in the city."

"Why would we be going on a dat-"

"While you're there, a Vampire comes at you. What will you do?"

"I'll stab him with a silver stake."

Malia dropped her book and sat up. "Really? Do you have a silver stake? Do you even know how to use one?"

Stiles scowled. Silver stakes were a guardian's deadliest weapon. Using it right, it could kill pretty much anything. So, of course, they weren't given out lightly to novices. He crossed his arms. "Fine. I'm out with Scott, not in a date, and I see a Vampire. I guess, I run."

Malia didn't blink. "Yes, you do." Then she told him she'd run with him today.

They set out into the evening. They didn't speak. Malia kept her pace slow to match his. That bothered him. So he picked up his own pace, working his lungs and muscles harder. His body started screaming obscenities at him, but when they finished the twelve laps, Stiles had shaved two minutes off his best time.

"Not bad, huh? Looks like I'd get very far running from that Vampire. Not sure how Scott would do though."

"If he was with you, he'd be fine."

Stiles looked up in surprise. It was the first real compliment she'd paid him. Her dark eyes watched him, both approving and amused.

And that's when it happened.

Stiles felt like someone had shot him. Sharp and biting, terror exploded in his body and in his head. Small razors of pain. His vision blurred, and he saw what Scott was seeing. Scott was transformed and fighting a man with long, bony fingers and long, dirty hair. The man had sharp fingernails that he used to stab Scott's left arm. That was where the pain was coming from. Scott went at him and gave the man a bite. The man screamed and Stiles' vision cleared.

Without a word to Malia, he tore off, running as fast as he could toward Scott's dorm. Distantly, he was aware of Malia catching up to him, asking what was wrong. But Stiles didn't answer her; he just ran.

They got to Scott's room and Stiles kicked the door down. He grabbed the wild man from the back, pulled him away from Scott and threw him over the bed. Everything about the man screamed _'savage'_. He was half-naked and haired all over. There was some sort of drool escaping from his mouth as he bared his teeth. He lunged toward them and Stiles pushed Scott out of the way. But before the man could reach him, Malia came from the back and broke his neck. The man dropped to the floor, motionless, and everyone stood there, shocked.

An half hour later, they were crammed inside Scott's dorm room with three other guardians, Finstock, and the hall matron. Shock and disgust showed on almost everyone's faces as they stared at the man's body.

"What is he?" Scott asked, back to his regular self. His arm was hurting and bleeding, but he claimed to be fine. He'd be visiting Dr Deaton after this.

"A Maero," said Malia efficiently. Everyone seemed confused so she clarified, "A cannibal."

"He simply attacked you?" Finstock asked Scott. "And you fought him off? You turned?"

"I didn't have a choice," argued Scott. "He was going to kill me."

"Did he say that? Why would another half-breed try to kill you, Mr McCall?"

"I don't know. Maybe he works for someone."

"No mythological creature would ever work for a Vampire, if that's what you're implying."

"Someone let him inside the borders," said Stiles accusingly. "There's no other way it could've-"

"Shut up, Stilinski," said Finstock. "You're not even supposed to be here. The real guardians will take care of it."

"If they were taking care of it, he wouldn't have gotten in."

"Get this cleaned up," Finstock snapped to the matron. "And find out if anyone saw anything. Guardian Tate, please escort Stilinski back to his dorm and then present yourself to a formal hearing."

Malia did as she was ordered. On the way to his dorm, Stiles asked, "Why do you need to go to a hearing?"

"I just killed a half-breed, Stiles," she said sharply like it'd been his fault. "It won't go unpunished."

"What do you mean? What are they gonna do to you?"

She tried to shrug it off. "They'll think of something. But you…" she turned to him. "You know something you're not telling me. Is this what you meant when you told Principal Finstock that McCall was in danger?"

"I don't know anything," said Stiles. "But… Could a Vampire had given the Maero orders or something?"

"It is unheard of. The Vampires work alone. If by any chance they get their hands in a half-breed, anything magical, they feed on them. Can't you think of anyone else who could've done this?"

Stiles considered this. The only person he could think of was Liam Dunbar, but Liam seemed to fight his battles with words, not actions. And even if he did decide to hurt Scott he wouldn't have done it in a way that could get his own little self killed. Or his friends for that matter. Letting a mad man inside campus was jeopardizing everyone's safety and Liam didn't strike Stiles like the type who'd do that. There were a million other ways to get back at a person.

"No," said he, finally. "No clue."

From then on, Stiles fought harder and better. So much that he finally won his first hand-to-hand pairing.

"The comeback's starting," observed Erica. "How's Scott?"

"Fine. Deaton patched him well. Hey, by the way, you claim to know about Liam. You think he might have done that?"

"Whoa, hey, I'm not an expert on golden boy or anything. But honestly? No. Liam doesn't like getting his hands dirty. And what could he have said to convince that... whatever it was... to come kill Scott?"

"Maero," Stiles told her. "It was a freaking cannibal, E. I don't think it needs convincing to kill."

Once _Psycology of Half-Breeds_ started, Stiles pondered the likelihood of Liam being responsible. From the smug look on his psycho-angel face, he certainly seemed to be enjoying the attack. But that didn't mean he was the culprit; it was obvious he'd enjoy anything that upset Scott or Stiles.

"Werewolves differentiate their packs into alpha males and alpha females whom the others defer to. Alphas are almost always the strongest physically, though many times, confrontations turn out to be more a matter of willpower and personality. When an alpha is challenged and replaced, that Werewolf may find himself ostracized from the group becoming an Omega."

Stiles looked up and focused on the teacher, Ms Flemming.

"If the alpha male is an older, seasoned Werewolf, a younger competitor may think he has a shot," she continued. "The young often don't realize how seriously outclassed they are by the more experienced."

Liam raised his hand. "What about… uh, a Maero? Does it have alphas too?" There was a collective intake of breath from the class.

The teacher seemed annoyed. "We're discussing Werewolves today, Mr Dunbar."

Liam didn't seem to mind the subtle chastising.

"Hey, Scott," called Jackson Whittmore from where he was sitting. "There's a rumor going around that the Maero was actually a friend of you guys. That is, before you bit him. Did you meet him while you were away?"

"Screw you," said Stiles.

The teacher put her hands on her waist. "Now, you two need to-"

Jackson Whittemore cocked his head in an overly dramatic fashion. "Hey, I just got it: it was you, wasn't it, Stilinski? McCall got you to bring the Maero inside the borders, didn't he? Some weird kind of gay voo- _ahhh!"_ Jackson started convulsing like he was being electrocuted. His body only stopped shaking when he hit the floor.

The teacher changed from red to deep purple. She started yelling and for several seconds the entire classroom froze watching her go at Kira Yukimura. "How dare you...! Do you have any idea...? Report to Principal Finstock's office now!"

Kira, completely unfazed, stood up and slung her backpack over one shoulder. Jackson was getting back up from the floor and Kira blew him a kiss before exiting the classroom. The rest of the class stared, open-mouthed.

The teacher attempted to return the class to normal, but it was a lost cause. No one could stop talking about what had happened. It was shocking on a few different levels. First, no one had ever seen that kind of power. Second, Kira had used it _offensively_. She had attacked another person. They were all forbid to do that. In Beacon Hills Academy, they believed magic was meant to take care of the earth, to help people live better lives. It was never, ever used as a weapon.

And the craziest of all, Kira Yukimura had done it. Kira, whom no one ever noticed or gave a damn about. Well, they'd noticed her now.

"Have you guys been hanging out?" Stiles asked Scott as they walked out of class.

"A little," he admitted. "She's nice."

"I saw how nice she is," laughed Stiles. "But she's also out of her mind. She electrocuted Jackson! That's like... _wow_ , you know?"

Scott smiled. "It was cool, wasn't it?"

"So cool." Stiles had to admit, even if begrudgingly, that that Kira Yukimura girl was really growing on him.

* * *

 _I guess no one told Jackson not to trust the fox..._


	6. The Irresponsible

Later, after school, Stiles was in his room doing homework when he felt a trickle of what could only be called _sneakiness_ coming from Scott. Losing track of his work, he stared off into space, trying to get a more detailed understanding of what was happening to his friend. Frowning, focusing on Scott, Stiles tried to remove the wall that he normally fought hard to keep up. He steadied his breathing and cleared his mind. His thoughts didn't matter, only Scott's did.

Stiles had never done anything like this before; he didn't have the patience for meditation. But he forced himself into an intense, focused relaxation, and after a few more moments, his efforts paid off.

 _He was in._

Scott was sneaking into the chapel's attic again. Like last time, he met no resistance. _Good God,_ Stiles thought, _could that priest be any worse about securing his own chapel?_

Sunrise lit up the stained-glass window, and Kira's silhouette was framed against it: she was sitting in the window seat. "You're late," she told Scott. "Been waiting a while."

"Sorry," he said. "I figured you'd be tied up with Principal Finstock."

Kira shook her head. "He suspended me for a week, that's all. Not like it's hard to sneak out."

"I'm surprised you didn't get more time."

A patch of sunlight lit up her almond-shaped eyes. "Disappointed?"

"You electrocuted Jackson."

"Shame it won't fix his personality."

Scott hid a smile. "You shouldn't have done that."

Straightening out of her lounging position, Kira sat up. "I did it for you."

"You attacked someone for me?"

"Sure. He was giving you and Stiles a hard time. I figured you could use the backup. Besides, this'll shut anyone else up about the whole Maero thing, too."

"You shouldn't have done that," repeated Scott but he was just saying it. "Attacking someone else with our abilities is forbidden and... I think that's exactly why you wanted to do it. You got a thrill out of it."

"Wouldn't you? Those rules are stupid. If we used our abilities as a weapon instead of just for warm and fuzzy shit, the Vampires wouldn't keep killing so many of us."

"It's wrong," said Scott. "What we have, what we are... is a gift. It's peaceful. Nature gave it to us, but it might take it back."

"You're repeating the party line we've been fed our whole lives," argued Kira standing up. "It wasn't always that way, you know. We used to fight, right along with the guardians... centuries ago. Then people started getting scared and stopped. Figured it was safer to just hide." She shook her head. "They forgot how the world is supposed to be."

"But you haven't?"

She crooked a smile.

"What about your parents?" asked Scott. "Did they forget too?"

The smile disappeared. "You don't know anything about my parents." Her face darkened, her eyes grew hard. To most people, she might have appeared intimidating, but Scott thought she seemed very, very vulnerable.

"You're right," he admitted softly, after a moment. "I don't. I'm sorry."

Kira looked astonished. Probably no one apologized to her that often. Hell, no one even talked to her that often. Certainly no one ever listened. "Forget it." Kira stopped in front of Scott so they could look each other in the eye. Feeling her so close made Scott hold his breath. A dangerous smile curled her lips. "And really, I don't get why you of all people should act so outraged that I used my _'forbidden'_ abilities."

"Me _'of all people'?_ What's that supposed to mean?"

"You can play all innocent if you want... and you do a pretty good job... but I know the truth."

"What truth is that?"

Kira leaned closer. "You used your abilities to get out of here."

"No, I didn't," Scott said immediately.

"Of course you did. I've been lying awake at night, trying to figure out how in the world you two were able to break out of here in the first place. You turned into a werewolf and carried your friend out."

"I see. You just figured it out. Without any proof."

"I don't need any. And I bet you used them when the Maero attacked you."

"What are you going to do then?" Scott asked. There was a defiant note in his voice: understandable, considering his fear and anger. Only they way he delivered it... if Stiles didn't know any better, he might've said Scott was flirting. "You going to turn me in?"

Kira shook her head and smiled. "No. I think it's hot," and her tone and presence radiated the same flirtatiousness Scott had.

Scott stared, eyes widening and heart racing. He stared at her, a swirl of emotions playing in his chest. Then a feeling of peace settled over him and Stiles removed himself from his head.

Right on cue, there was a knock on his dorm's door. Erica came in with her best smile.

"Hey," said Stiles moving to sit at the end of the bed. Erica lied back on it, putting her feet on his lap. "What you doing here?"

"I had to do an assignment with one of Hayden's friend." The tone in her voice indicated she wasn't happy about that.

"Oooh," Stiles teased. "You don't like being treated like an inferior?"

Erica smiled. "I won't be the only one. I... uh... accidentally told her Liam Dunbar's parents are practically custodians of a lord or another. I exaggerated, but she was a sucker for gossip, and notorious for spreading it."

"Seriously?" asked Stiles.

"Yeah. The seed's been planted." Sitting up, Erica moved closer to Stiles and draped a leg over his lap.

"Whoa, wait," he hesitated.

Erica wrapped her arms around him, and without further delay, Stiles' thoughts disappeared as his testosterone kicked in. Erica kissed him eagerly, sloppily, even, pushing him against the wall, and Stiles relaxed into what had to be the first enjoyable physical activity he'd had in weeks.

They kissed like that for a long time. Erica pulled off his shirt and Stiles didn't fight it. He pushed her onto the bed, lying over her, still kissing with that same fierceness. His lips traveled down to her neck.

And that was when the door opened.

They sprang apart. Stiles was ready to handle a fellow student or even possibly the matron. What he was not ready for was Malia Tate. She burst in the door like she'd expected to find them.

"What's your name?" she barked to Erica.

Erica smiled wickedly. "Erica Reyes, Tate. I'm sure you knew that already."

"Miss Reyes, do you have permission to be in this part of the dorm?"

"No, sir," joked Erica clearly not understanding the seriousness of the situation.

"Do you know the rules about male and female interactions around here?"

Erica shrugged. "If I recall, you didn't care about the rules when you were snuggling with that photo creep guy."

Malia's face was hard as stone. "I suggest you get out of here as fast as you can before I turn you over to someone who will punish you accordingly. If I ever see you here again, I will be the one to punish you. And it will hurt. A lot. Do you understand?"

It was Erica's turn to hesitate. Part of her wanted to come with a snarky retort, Stiles was sure, but another part actually believed Malia's every word. "Yes."

"Then go."

Erica glanced at Stiles and winked before leaving the room. Then Malia turned to him, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes. She didn't say anything, but the angry, disapproving message came through loud and clear.

And then it shifted.

It was almost like she'd been taken by surprise, like she'd never noticed Stiles before. She studied his face, his body, and Stiles suddenly realized he wasn't wearing a shirt. A hot flush spread over him. The look in Malia's dark eyes was doing more to him than Erica's kisses had. Malia was quiet and distant sometimes, but she also had a dedication and an intensity that Stiles had never seen in any other person. He wondered how that kind of power and strength translated into sex. He wondered what it'd be like to touch her and... _wait, what?_

"Get dressed," Malia said. The set of her mouth hardened, and whatever she had felt was gone. Stiles immediately pulled his shirt back on.

"What are you doing here? How did you know—"

"Shut up," she snapped. "A janitor saw her and reported it. Do you have any idea how stupid you are?"

"I know, I know, the whole probation thing, right?"

"No. I'm talking about the stupidity of getting in that kind of situation in the first place."

"I get in that kind of situation all the time," he admitted. "Relax. It's not a big deal."

"You have no idea... How could I... You're so stupid! Don't you have any respect? This could get on your record. It reflects bad on you. And her, for that matter."

Stiles stumbled. He really didn't get why she was making such a big deal. Unless... Unless she was mad for reasons she wasn't putting into words.

"Oh, I see," he teased. "Is that what this is about? Or are you—"

"I am nothing," she cut harshly. "I've made this mistake already, Stiles. Now, I set my standards and live up to them. What you do with yours remains to be seen."

"You're seventeen," Stiles pointed out. "You don't have to be like that, you know? People can have fun. They're allowed to."

"In less than a year, someone's life and death will be in your hands," she said. "If we were half-breeds, we could have fun. I could do things other girls can."

"You're saying we can't."

Malia glanced away, and her dark eyes went unfocused. "I was the top student in this school. I paid attention to everything in classes. But in the end, it didn't matter, Stiles. They still gave me a bad mark because they found a boy in my room. What we do, it's never enough. That's how it is in this life. One slip, one distraction... And your reputation is destroyed."

Stiles had no idea what she was talking about anymore. As far as he knew, she had a great reputation and all the other guardians respected her. Hadn't she graduated with honors? What, was she saying she wanted to _'have fun'_ with him but couldn't? But wouldn't? Or was he misreading the signs? She had to like boys if she was once caught with one.

"It doesn't matter how I feel," she said as if reading his thoughts. "It doesn't matter how any of us feel."

"Does it bother you that I was with her?" It was suddenly very clear to him. He could read her, though she clearly worked hard to hide her emotions. _She was into him._ She wanted something more, something she thought she couldn't have.

Malia looked surprised, like she didn't want him to know that, like Stiles had uncovered some secret part of her.

"Look..." Stiles tried to touch her but she dodged. The surprised look vanished, and her standard serious one returned.

"It doesn't matter how I feel," she said again. "They come first. Protecting them."

Defeated, Stiles nodded.

Malia turned around and headed to the door. But something stopped her. "Can I trust you?"

Stiles felt the seriousness of what she was asking. Her words weighed a ton. This was a person who didn't trust anyone, not easily, and here she was wanting to trust him of all people. He didn't get how she could have such a powerful effect on him. He'd never cared so much about what one person thought.

"Yes. I promise."

Malia glanced at him one last time. "I need you to be strong," she said enigmatically. She studied him hard, like she was still trying to decide if she could believe him. Finally satisfied, she gave Stiles a sharp nod and left.

Stiles left himself fall back on the bed. That was definitely the most bizarre conversation he'd ever had.


	7. The Finest Qualities

"Excuse me, Mr. Harris? I can't really concentrate with Scott and Stiles passing notes over there."

Liam was attempting to distract attention from himself — as well as from his inability to answer Mr. Harris's question — and it was ruining what had otherwise been a promising day. A few of the Maero rumors still circulated, but most people wanted to talk about Kira attacking Jackson.

Mr. Harris homed in on them like a missile. He snatched the note away and Stiles tried to look as blank and unconcerned as possible.

"My, my," Mr. Harris said, looking the note over. "If only students would write this much in their essays. One of you has considerably worse writing than the other, so forgive me if I get anything wrong here." He cleared his throat. " _'E showed up in my room last night,'_ begins the person with bad handwriting, to which the response is, _'What happened?'_ The first speaker says: _'What do you think happened? We hooked up.'_ "

Harris glanced up after hearing some giggles in the room.

"May I assume by this reaction that the use of _'hook up'_ pertains to the more recent, shall we say, carnal application of the term than the tamer one I grew up with?"

More snickers ensued. Straightening up, Stiles said boldly, "Yes, sir, Mr. Harris. That would be correct, sir." A number of people in the class laughed outright.

"Thank you for that confirmation, Stilinski. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the other speaker then asks, _'How was it?'_ The response is, _'Good.'_ Well. I suppose kudos are in order for the mysterious E, hmmm? _'So, like, how far did you guys go?'_ Uh, gentlemen," said Mr. Harris, "I do hope this doesn't surpass a PG rating. _'Not very. We got caught.'_ And we are shown the severity of the situation through the use of a not-smiling face. _'What happened?' 'Malia showed up. She threw Erica out and then bitched me about it.'_ "

The class lost it from finally getting some participants named.

"Why, Miss Reyes, are you the aforementioned E?" Erica's face turned beet red, but she didn't look entirely displeased at having her exploits made known. "Well, while I applaud a good misadventure as much as the next teacher whose time is utterly wasted, do remind your 'friends' in the future that my class is not a chat room." He tossed the paper back on to Scott's desk. "Stilinski, it seems there's no feasible way to punish you, since you're already maxed out on penalties around here. Ergo, you, Mr. McCall, will serve two detentions instead of one on behalf of your friend. Stay here when the bell rings, please."

Stiles gave Scott a sympathetic look. After class, Erica found him, an uneasy look on her face. "Did you have to write him about it?" she asked pissed.

Stiles shrugged, "Sorry."

Erica shook her head. "If Tate comes at me again, I'll—"

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles interrupted her. "Don't worry, she won't."

They headed for the dorm together. They passed a number of students gathered in small clusters outside the building.

"No, it's true," a confident voice said. "They, like, clean toilets or something."

"Oh my God," her friend said. "I'd die if I was Hayden."

Stiles smiled. Apparently Erica's source had spread some of the stories about Liam.

"What did Tate say to you after I left?" Erica asked bluntly.

Stiles glanced at her. "Nothing much," he lied. "She was just a little upset that—"

"—you weren't doing it with her?" Erica smiled. "I figured."

"That's not what I said."

"You didn't have to. Maybe you didn't notice. But I pay attention. You're so oblivious, Stiles. You miss all sorts of things. Now, are you gonna keep training with her? Isn't it going to be weird?"

Stiles hadn't really thought about it and he wasn't going to do it with Erica.

"Stiles, she's a crazy bitch. I told you already. I'm sure they'll let you go, if you don't want to train with her anymore. They can find someone else, someone who's not—"

"Why are you concerned with this?" he asked, but the moment he did the answer came to him. _She was jealous,_ he realized. Stiles could see it in her eyes. How had he never noticed this before? Erica was crazy about him. Guess he really was oblivious.

"You know what?" he said. "It's alright. Forget about it." He smiled. "I'll see you later." And Stiles walked away, sad he didn't feel the same way about Erica.

Later, after Scott was done with his punishment, the two of them sat together listening to Liam try to explain to his friends that his parents weren't servants or anything, they were practically royal advisers!

Stiles choked on a laugh, and Scott shook his head. "You're enjoying this waaay too much."

"Because it's awesome."

"Are you going to the assembly tonight?"

"Yeah. Finstock gave me permission."

A royal group was visiting the school, including Queen Natalie Martin herself. Stiles didn't think much of stiff royals, but this was a chance to hang out with actual people for a change and not stay locked in his dorm room. A little freedom was definitely worth the pain of sitting through a few boring speeches.

Stiles checked the clock on the wall. "Shit, gotta go. Malia's waiting for me." Scott nodded and Stiles rushed out of there. Malia had offered him extra trainings (something he purposefully kept from Erica), and Stiles was trying to not disappoint her. He now had two additional hours of practice with her, one before and one after school. And the more he watched her in action, the more impressed he was.

When he arrived at the gym, he noticed she was wearing a T-shirt and loose running pants, as opposed to her usual tight ones. It was a good look for her. Really good.

 _Stop looking,_ he immediately told himself.

They stood facing each other on the mat and Malia crossed her arms. "What's the first problem you'll run into when facing a Vampire?"

"They're immortal?"

"Think of something more basic."

He considered. "They're stronger."

Malia nodded. "That makes it difficult but not impossible. You can usually use a person's extra height and weight against them. Like I do."

She turned and demonstrated several maneuvers, pointing out where to move and how to strike someone. Going through the motions with her, Stiles gained some insight into why he took such a regular beating in group practice. He absorbed her techniques quickly and couldn't wait to actually use them.

"Go ahead," she said, again reading him like an open book. "Try to hit me."

Stiles didn't need to be told twice. Lunging forward, he tried to land a blow and was promptly blocked and knocked down onto the mat. Pain surged through his body, but he refused to give in to it. He jumped up again, hoping to catch her off guard.

He didn't.

After several more failed attempts, Stiles stood up and held out his hands in a gesture of truce. "Okay, what am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing."

"If I wasn't doing anything wrong, I'd have rendered you unconscious by now."

"Unlikely. Your moves are all correct, but this is the first time you've really tried. I've done it a lot of times."

Stiles shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Grandma. Can we try it again?"

"We're out of time. The queen has yet to punish me for the Maero before the banquet," she said like it was no big deal.

She walked off ahead of him. Studying her carefully, Stiles realized he couldn't let the opportunity go by. He leapt at her back, positioning himself exactly the way she'd taught him. He had the element of surprise. She wouldn't even see him coming.

But before he could make contact, Malia spun around at a ridiculously high speed. In one deft motion, she grabbed him like he weighed nothing and threw him to the ground, pinning him there.

Stiles groaned. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

Her eyes looked levelly into his as she held his wrists, but she didn't look as serious as she had during the lesson. It was almost like she was... _amused_. "The battle cry sort of gave you away."

"Would it have really made a difference if I'd been quiet?"

Malia thought about it. "Probably not."

All of a sudden, it occurred to Stiles that she was _still_ holding him down. The skin on her fingers was warm as she clutched his wrists. Her face hovered inches from his, and her legs and torso were actually pressing against his. Some of her long brown hair hung around her face, and by God, did she smell good. Breathing became difficult for him, and it had nothing to do with the workout or his lungs being crushed.

Stiles would have given anything to be able to read her mind right then. Ever since that night in the dorm, he had noticed her watching him with this same, studious expression, in a way that was almost admiring. And sometimes, if he was really, really lucky, she'd smile at him. A real smile that lit up her face and "gorgeous" no longer adequately described her.

"So um... you got any other moves to show me?" he asked.

Her lips twitched, and for a moment, Stiles thought something incredible was going to happen. But then, with visible effort, Malia shifted off him, leaned back on her heels, and rose. "Come on. We should go."

Stiles scrambled to his feet and followed her out of the gym. Malia didn't look back as they walked. Stiles had to be out of his mind. He so did not need this complication in his life right now.

After a quick shower, he headed off across campus to the reception. Tonight, someone had managed to transform the normally boring commons into a bona fide dining room. It looked fit for a queen.

The tables had been arranged in straight lines, creating an aisle down the middle of the room. They had assigned seating, and naturally, Stiles couldn't sit anywhere near Scott. Scott sat in the front with the other half-breeds; Stiles was in the back with the novices.

A head table sat on a dais at the front of the room, where they could watch Queen Natalie and other royals eat dinner. Guardians lined the walls, as stiff and formal as statues. Malia stood among them, and a weird feeling twisted Stiles's stomach as he recalled what had happened in the gym.

When the time came for the royals' entrance, they all stood up respectfully and watched. Stiles recognized a few: Gerard Argent was among them, walking slowly and with a cane.

Queen Natalie followed her guards, wearing a red silk dress and matching jacket. She was crowned with a Miss America-type tiara. She moved into the room slowly, like she was taking a stroll. Then someone caught her attention.

"Scott McCall."

Alarm coursed through the bond. Breaking protocol, Stiles pushed out of his position and wiggled over to get a better view.

"We heard you had returned. We are glad to have the McCalls back, even though only one remains. We deeply regret the loss of your parents; they were among the finest of us, their deaths a true tragedy. The McCall name commands its own respect. McCall kings and queens have ruled wisely and justly in our history. They have used their powers for miraculous ends. They have slain the Cold Ones, fighting right alongside their guardians. They are royal for a reason."

She waited a moment, letting the weight of her words sink in. Stiles could feel the mood changing in the room.

"Yes," Queen Natalie continued, "you are named with power. Your name represent the finest qualities people have to offer and hearken back in time to deeds of greatness and valor." She paused a moment. "But, as you have demonstrated, names do not make a person. Nor do they have any bearing on how that person turns out."

And with that verbal slap in the face, she turned away and continued her procession.


	8. The Pixie

A collective shock filled the room. Stiles briefly contemplated and then dismissed any attempts at jumping into the aisle and tackling the queen. Instead, he sat impatiently through dinner, all the while feeling Scott's absolute mortification.

Afterwards, Scott made a beeline for the doors leading out to the courtyard. Stiles followed, but got delayed having to weave around and avoid the mingling, socializing people. Rounding a corner, he stopped when he saw Kate Argent had beaten him to Scott.

"She shouldn't have said that," Kate was saying. "It wasn't right. Don't let it bother you."

"Kind of late for that."

"She was wrong."

"She was right," Scott exclaimed. "My parents... they would have hated me for what I did."

"No, they wouldn't have." Kate spoke in a gentler voice.

"It was stupid to run away. Irresponsible."

Kate moved closer and put a hand on Scott's arm. "So what? You made a mistake. I make mistakes all the time. The other day, I was doing this assignment in science, and it was for chapter ten, and I'd actually read chapter elev—" Kate stopped herself and, in a remarkable show of restraint, got herself back on track. "People change. We're always changing, right? You aren't the same as you were then. I'm not the same as I was then."

Actually, Kate seemed exactly the same to Stiles, but that didn't bother him so much anymore.

"Besides," she added, "was running away really a mistake? You must have done it for a reason. You must have gotten something out of it, right? There was a lot of bad stuff going on with you, wasn't there? I mean, maybe it was the right thing to do."

Scott hid a smile. Kate was trying to find out why they had left, but she sort of sucked at being sneaky.

"I don't know if it was, no," he answered. "I was weak. My parents wouldn't have run away. They were so good. Good at everything. Good at getting along with people and all that royal crap."

"You're good at that too."

"But I don't like it."

"Then don't feel bad about not getting involved," Kate said. "I don't hang out with all those people either, and look at me. I'm just fine. Daddy says he doesn't care if I hang out with the royals or not. He just wants me to be happy."

"And that," Stiles said, finally making his appearance, "is why he should be ruling instead of that bitch of a queen."

Kate nearly jumped ten feet.

"I wondered where you were," said Scott.

Kate shifted uncomfortably and tucked some messy hair behind her ear. "Well... I should go find Daddy. I'll see you back in the room."

"See you," said Scott. "And thanks."

She hurried off.

"Does she really call him 'Daddy'? And, was it me, or she was hitting on you?"

Scott cut him a look. "Leave her alone. She's nice."

"She is, actually. I heard what she said, and as much as I hate to admit it, there was nothing there I could really make fun of. It was all true." He paused. "I'll kill her, you know. The queen, not Kate. Screw the guardians. I'll do it. She can't get away with that."

"God, Stiles! Don't say that. They'll arrest you for treason. Just let it go."

"Let it go? After what she said to you? You're her heir! She named you!"

"I _was_ her heir. Before we left."

"Hey. She doesn't know what she's talking about, okay? Don't let this get you down. Don't—" he stopped when he heard the sound of laughter. Liam walked toward them with a few friends in tow. "What do you want now?"

Liam smiled haughtily at Scott and ignored Stiles, taking a few steps forward. "Just wanted to know what it's like to be so important and so royal. You must be so excited that the queen talked to you."

"You're standing too close." Stiles stepped between them, and Liam flinched a little. "And hey at least the queen knew his name, which is more than I can say for you and your wannabe-royal act. Or your parents."

Stiles could see the pain that caused him.

"At least I see my parents," Liam retorted. "At least I know who they both are. God only knows who your mother is. And your dad's one of the most famous guardians around, but he couldn't care less about you either. Everyone knows he never visits. Probably was glad when you were gone. If he even noticed."

Stiles clenched his teeth. "Yeah, well, at least he is famous. He really does advise royal half-breeds. He doesn't clean up after them."

One of Liam's friends snickered behind him. Liam opened his mouth. "It was you," he said, eyes wide. "You started the rumor." Liam pointed at Scott and glared back at Stiles. "So that's it, huh? You do his dirty work because he's too pathetic to do it himself. You aren't always going to be able to protect him," he warned. "You aren't safe either."

Stiles leaned forward, making his voice as menacing as possible. "Yeah? Try and touch me now and find out." And he hoped he would. Stiles wanted him to. Liam Dunbar was a distraction — one he very much wanted to punch.

Looking past Liam, Stiles saw Malia move out into the garden. When she saw him, she strode forward, shifting her attention when she noticed the crowd gathered there. "Everything alright?"

"Sure thing, Guardian Tate." Stiles smiled, but he was furious. "We were just swapping family stories. Ever heard Liam's? It's fascinating."

"Come on," said Liam to his followers, leading them off.

"I'm supposed to take you back to your dorm," Malia told Stiles dryly. "You weren't about to just start a fight, were you?"

"Of course not," Stiles said. "I don't start fights where people can see them."

"Stiles," groaned Scott.

"You going to be okay?" he asked his friend.

Scott nodded. "Great"

Reluctantly, Stiles followed Malia. She led him out toward the other side of the garden. "We may need to add an extra training on self-control," she noted.

"I have plenty of self contr—hey!" Stiles stopped talking as he saw Kira slip past them. "You going to see Scott?"

"What if I am?"

"Stiles, this isn't the time," said Malia steering him away.

* * *

Sleep came slowly that night and Stiles tossed and turned for a long time before finally going under. An hour or so later, he sat up in bed, trying to relax and sort out the emotions coming to him. Scott wasn't feeling so good. He was scared and upset. Unstable. Buried within him, there was something else. Something terribly wrong.

Stiles climbed out of bed, dressed hastily, and went out of his room.

"Where do you think you're going?" One of the matrons who supervised the hall looked up from her chair.

"I need to see Mal—Guardian Tate."

"It's late."

"It's an emergency."

She looked him up and down. "You seem okay to me."

"You're going to be in so much trouble tomorrow when everyone finds out you stopped me from reporting what I know."

"And what do you know?"

"It's private guardian stuff."

Stiles gave her as hard a stare as he could manage. It must have worked, because she finally stood up and pulled out a cell phone. She called someone but murmured too low for him to hear. They waited several minutes, and then the door leading to the stairs opened. Malia appeared, fully dressed and alert, though Stiles felt pretty sure they'd pulled her out of bed since her hair was all knotted.

She took one look at Stiles. "Scott."

Stiles nodded.

Without another word, she turned around and started back down the stairs. Stiles followed. They walked across the quad in silence, toward the other dorm. The mid-afternoon sun shone with a cold, golden light on them. Stiles welcomed it and regretted how light sensitivity forced them to live in darkness most of the time.

"He's in the bathroom," Stiles told her. "Let me talk to him alone first."

Malia considered. "Fine."

Stiles pushed the door open. "Scott?"

A soft sound, like a sob, came from within. Stiles walked in. Scott knelt on the ground, covered in blood and holding a girl in his arms.

Horrified, Stiles squelched a scream and almost called for help. Looking more closely, he saw that it wasn't a regular girl. Her skin had a faint glow, her ears were pointy, and she had small wings coming from behind her. But she wasn't moving at all if not for Scott's shaky hands and hard sobs.

"What happened?"

Scott only shook his head. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean... She was waiting for me here..." he sobbed. "When she attacked, I freaked out. This just happened before I could stop. I was upset..."

"It's okay," Stiles said automatically. Nothing was okay.

Malia and the matron entered. Malia raced to their sides in an instant. She assessed Scott, and when she seemed satisfied he had no gaping wounds, she asked, "What happened?"

"She was waiting for me here. She said she didn't want to hurt me, just talk. She lied..."

Malia shifted closer to Scott, bending down until they were at eye level. "You can let go of her now."

Scott began to cry, and his shoulders shook.

"No one should be able to get into these place!" exclaimed the matron. "How is this happening?"

"Do you know what she is?" Scott asked Malia softly.

"A Pixie," said Malia studying the girl's childlike looks. "They are generally benign, but mischievous. If she—" something stopped her. Malia found a small pocket in the girl's clothes and pulled a paper from inside it.

"What does it say?" asked Scott. Malia didn't answer him. Scott took the paper from her hands. "' _You won't survive being here. No royals will. I'll make sure of it.'_ "

The matron's shock transformed into something more determined, and she headed for the door. "I'm getting Bobby."

"Tell him we'll be at the clinic," said Malia, then she turned to Scott. "You should lie down."

When he didn't move, Stiles linked his arm through his. "Come on, man. Let's get you out of here."

Slowly, Scott let go of the Pixie and let the others lead him to the medical clinic. He had no sooner stretched out on a narrow bed than Finstock and a few others showed up and started questioning him.

Stiles thrust himself in front of them, blocking Scott. "Leave him alone! He doesn't want to talk about it. Let him get some sleep first."

"Stilinski," declared Finstock, "you're out of line as usual. I don't even know what you're doing here. Your presence isn't required, much less allowed."

Malia asked if she could speak with him privately and led Finstock into the hall. Stiles heard angry whispers from him, calm and firm ones from her. When they returned, Finstock said stiffly, "You may stay with Scott for a little while. We'll have janitors do further cleaning and investigation in the bathroom and your room, Mr. McCall, and then discuss the situation in detail in the morning."

The group retreated.

"We should go," Stiles said abruptly when they were alone. "We're going to leave ASAP."

"Stiles—"

"It's happening again, man! And it's worse. Worse than last time."

"You're afraid of the note."

"I'm not afraid of any note. But this place isn't safe. And what if they decide to punish you for killing that half-breed? Malia didn't tell me what they did to her, so I assume it's bad—"

"I need some sleep," said Scott numbly. "Please, leave me alone."

Hurt, Stiles stopped talking and did as his friend asked. The fear and excitement had worn him out too, and for an instant, Stiles wished he could have a normal life and a normal best friend.


	9. The Mark of Cain

Stiles slept heavily until morning. He went to his first class tentatively, nervous that word about last night had gotten around, but it hadn't. As hard as it was to believe.

"You okay?" he asked Scott, on the way to class. "Did they do something to you?"

"No... They don't punish half-breeds for the killing of half-breeds if such act is necessary. But I have to live with what I did. I keep seeing it in my head... I guess it's punishment enough. What I did to her..." He squeezed his eyes shut, just for a moment, and then opened them again.

"Hey, man. You didn't have a choice. She was going to kill you." Scott didn't say anything. "Did they tell you what the punishment is? Like in Malia's case?"

Scott shook his head. "Some kind of brand." With a few more words, he said he needed to go and left Stiles again. Stiles' hand twitched. He had a vague memory of this Scott McCall. The depressed, I-want-to-be-alone-all-the-time kind of guy he could turn into. This wasn't good.

"Are you okay?"

Stiles turned to face Malia. "It doesn't matter if I am, right? What worries me is Scott. This is being hard on him. He's not handling it well. What about you? How did our queen decide punish you?"

A funny look crossed her face as they headed out to the gym.

"It's nothing. Just something they do so we don't forget our place. It doesn't mean anything. A lot of people have it."

"So it is like a mark? Can I see it?"

"No."

"Did they mark your ass?"

Ignoring him, Malia led him through an offensive exercise where Stiles could use any makeshift weapons he could find to attack her. To his surprise, he managed to land a few blows on her.

Finally, she called a break. They carried the equipment they'd used on the field and returned everything to the supply room. While putting it away, Stiles noticed her wrist was bleeding.

"Is that...?"

Malia looked down at her arm. "Damn it." She said something in Turkish and lifted her sleeve.

"Lemme," offered Stiles. Before she could argue with him, he beckoned her to a chair and retrieved a first-aid kit. Wiping away the blood with a wet cloth, he saw the mark was very small and sort of looked like a rune or something."What does it mean?"

"The Mark of Cain, they call it. It's a brand," she explained. "Back in the old days, when half-breeds used to fight alongside their guardians, they wanted to make sure they were the commanders and not the other way around. So a guardian wasn't allowed to harm a half-breed in any way. The ones that did, whether because they had to or because they wanted to, were marked for what they were."

"Which is...?"

"Killers."

Stiles looked up from the mark. Those warm brown eyes surveyed him, and something tightened in his chest. _Damn it._ He had to stop feeling this way around her. "You didn't have a choice," he reminded her. "Your job was to protect Scott and you did that. They shouldn't punish you for that."

"They weren't punishment for protecting Scott. I was actually congratulated on that, Stiles. They punished me for eliminating one of them. An eye for an eye."

Stiles didn't really like that philosophy. "You said a lot of other people have it?"

"These days, it's killing or dying. We're at war. Even the half-breeds understand that. So killing one of them, when necessary, isn't a capital crime anymore. But they like to remind us that they are in charge, that we are inferior. They like to make sure we won't just rebel and go around killing them."

Stiles thought that was crazy talk. No guardian would ever dare to do that; they were there because they wanted to, because they cared. They had offered their lives to save the superior race of the half-breeds.

"I thought my dad had all the marks in the world," said Stiles trying to get the whole murderer subject out of her head. "He doesn't have that one. Haven't seen him in a while though. He could've been branded a thousand times for all I know."

"You don't like your dad," she observed.

"You noticed that, huh?"

"You barely know him."

"That's the point. He abandoned me. He left me to be raised by the McCalls. Which, I guess, turned out to be a good thing."

When he finished cleaning her wrist, he found a jar of salve and began rubbing it into the rough parts of her skin. Stiles was enjoying touching her, whatever the reason for that.

"What else should he have done? I know that what you want the most is to be a guardian. I know how much it means to you. Do you think he feels any different? Do you think he should have quit to raise you when you'd spend most of your life here anyway?"

"Are you saying I'm a hypocrite?"

"I'm just saying maybe you shouldn't be so hard on him. He's a very respected guardian. He's set you on the path to be the same."

"It wouldn't kill him to visit more," Stiles muttered. "But fine. I guess you're right. A little. It could have been worse, I suppose. I could have been raised in those happy little communities in the middle of nowhere." There were only two options for the children of the guardians: they could be raised by a family of half-breeds or they could be raised by humans in peaceful communities where they were raised to believe that violence was wrong and wouldn't be allowed to train to be a guardian.

Malia looked up. "That's how I was raised. It's not as bad as you think."

"Oh." Things got fifty shades of awkward. Stiles felt stupid. "I didn't mean—"

"I know."

He focused his attention back on her wrist. "So your family... they're not guardians?" He couldn't quite believe someone as talented as Malia hadn't been raised as a warrior her entire life. How could she have gotten so good?

"My dad was. He died on the job. My mom's the peaceful one, but you shouldn't call her that. I haven't seen her much since I came here, but we still keep in touch."

"And she just let you become a guardian?"

"Like I said, it's not as bad as you think."

It was his turn to nod. "Well, I'm sorry about your dad."

She shrugged. "I didn't really know him. All I know is he must have had wicked cool hair."

Stiles laughed. "Is that why you won't cut yours?" Most of the female guardians had very short hair to show off the tattoos in their necks. But not Malia. Her hair was long and beautiful. Stiles had finished the bandages but was still holding her hand. It was warm and small, with thin and graceful fingers.

"You're going to be a great guardian, you know?" she said.

That surprised him and Stiles left his mouth hang open for a moment. Her confidence made that warm feeling return to him. "I'm glad someone thinks so. Everyone else thinks I'm a lost cause."

"You are that too," she granted. "But with the way you worry more about Scott than yourself... No. You understand your responsibilities better than most guardians I know. You'll do what you have to do."

Unable to stop himself, Stiles moved forward and tried to kiss her, but Malia got up immediately. "I have to go," she said, suddenly very stern. She glanced at him one last time and walked away.

Disgraceful.

When he went to bed, Stiles had a bad dream. Peter Hale was there, shoving Stiles against a wall and shouting, "You have to take care of him!" His hands clenching Stiles' shirt and he jerked Stiles toward him. "Do you understand?"

Stiles' shock kept him frozen. "No."

"They're coming for me. They'll come for him too."

"Who?"

"Scott. You have to protect him. They want the throne. They want the royals. Get him out of here, Stiles!"

"I... what do you mean? Get him out of... you mean out of the Academy?"

"Yes! You have to leave. You're bound. It's up to you. Take him away from this place."

His words were crazy. No one left the Academy.

Feet pounded in the hallway, and a group of guardians rounded the corner. Stiles didn't recognize them; they weren't from Beacon Hills. They pried Peter Hale off of Stiles and restrained him. Someone asked Stiles if he was okay, but he could only keep staring at Peter.

"Save him," he shouted it. "Get him out!"

The guardians had later explained to Stiles that Peter wasn't well mentally and had been taken to a place where he could be treated. He would be safe and cared for, they assured Stiles. He would recover.

Only Peter never came back.

Stiles woke up with a bang on the door. He struggle to his feet and pried it open. It was Erica. "How'd you even get up here?"

She flashed her easy smile. "Someone put a lit match in one of the bathroom's garbage cans. Damn shame. The staff's kind of busy. Come on, I'm springing you."

Stiles shook his head. Setting fires, electrocuting people — everything was a sign of affection nowadays. "Sorry, no saving me tonight. If I get caught—"

"Scott's orders."

Stiles shut up and let her smuggle him out of the building. Erica took him over to the other dorm and miraculously got him in and up to Scott's room unseen.

Inside the room, there was a party in full swing. Scott, Hayden, and a few others sat around laughing, listening to loud music, and passing around bottles of whiskey. No Liam though. Kate sat apart from the group, clearly unsure how to act around all of them. Her awkwardness was totally obvious.

Scott stumbled to his feet, the fuzzy feelings in the bond indicating he'd been drinking for a while. "Stiles!" Scott slung an arm around Stiles and pulled him down with the others. "Join the festivities."

"What are we celebrating?"

"I don't know. Your escape tonight?"

A few of the others held up plastic cups, cheering and toasting him. Not so long ago, Stiles would have welcomed a party like this and would have downed his drink in thirty seconds. Too much bothered him this time, though. Like the fact that the royals were treating Scott like he was king already. And how Scott was completely unhappy despite his smiles and laughter.

"Why aren't you drinking?" Erica asked Stiles a little while later, speaking quietly into his ear.

Stiles glanced down at his cup, half surprised to see it full. "I don't know. I guess I don't think guardians should drink around their charges."

"He's not your charge yet! You aren't on duty." She laughed. "You won't be for a long time. Since when did you get so responsible?"

Stiles didn't really think he was all that responsible. He stood there while Erica spilled some more school gossip. Apparently, Scott had taken the day to make his comeback up the social ladder. He went back to hang out with Jackson Whittemore and Hayden Romero, and they accepted him like he had never left in the first place. Stiles shook his head. This wasn't good for him.

As she spoke, Stiles noticed the adoring look she always got around him spread across her face. It made him sad to have her feel that way about him. Guilty, even. Why couldn't he feel the same? Everything would be much simpler if he did.

Wiggling out of his tight spot between Erica and the wall, Stiles walked over and sat beside Kate. "You're quiet tonight."

She held a cup as full as his. "So are you."

He laughed softly. "I guess so."

Kate tilted her head, watching Scott with the royals around him like they were some sort of science experiment. "Weird, huh? You used to be the center of attention in these kind of parties. Now he is."

Stiles blinked in surprise. He didn't remember ever seeing Kate in a party before. It was true though; back in the day, whenever there was a party, there was also a wild Stiles doing everything in his power to be the center of the universe. And Scott would hang back, watching him but also watching the others with him, and later he would thank Stiles for keeping everyone busy while he could study them.

Scott was the one holding the universe now. He was doing his best to keep himself busy, but Stiles knew it was just so he wouldn't have to think about the Pixie or the Maero. But Scott was focusing in all the wrong things, all the wrong people. These phonies couldn't help him, they wouldn't. What Scott needed was someone who actually cared about him.

"I guess so," repeated Stiles reaching his decision. _The enemy of my enemy is my friend._

It was time to ask for help.


	10. The Lessons Learned

A few days later, Scott found Stiles outside the commons and delivered the most astonishing news.

"Gerard's getting Kate off campus this weekend to go shopping in Missoula. For the dance. They said I could come along. Gerard thinks he can get Principal Finstock to let you go. Malia's trying too."

"Malia?"

"Yeah. She has to go with me if I leave campus. Which, by the way, I'm dying to do since we came back." Scott grinned. "They figured out my account finally — I got my allowance back. So we can buy stuff. And you know they'll have to let you go to the dance."

"Do we go to dances now?" said Stiles. "School-sponsored social events?"

Scott made a face. "Of course not. But you know there'll be all kinds of secret parties. We'll start at the dance and sneak off. I got Hayden to go with me. Liam almost had a breakdown."

Stiles looked at his friend. "You do remember that he might actually die, right?"

"He's not gonna die," said Scott unconcerned. "Hayden loves him, however ashamed she is of the fact right now. And soon, I'll convince her to go back to him. Besides, there is no real evidence about this dying-from-a-broken-heart business. So for now, can I enjoy my victory?"

"What you're doing is enjoying his pain."

Scott shrugged. "It's something. Oh hey," he said excitedly. "You should see these—"

A shrieking sound interrupted him. Stiles looked around and couldn't believe what he saw. It was a heavy creature, the size of a small bear, with a row of spines reaching from the neck to the base of the tail. It looked reptile-like, with leathery and scaly greenish-gray skin and sharp spines or quills running down its back. This half-breed Stiles was able to recognize for what it was — a Chupacabra.

It stood facing them and then it started to hop toward them in a fashion similar to that of a kangaroo. Scott stared wordlessly, eyes wide.

"Son of a bitch," Stiles swore. Someone from inside Beacon Hills, someone with power, had to be bringing this things here. It was the only explanation. But who would want to hurt Scott so bad that they would jeopardize every student's safety?

Without hesitating, Stiles grabbed his backpack and hit the monster throwing him aside. The Chupacabra made a terrible sound. It stood up again and went toward Scott who was kneeling on the ground, his face distorted, his Werewolf traits starting to show. The instinct in him was so strong, it acted on its own. Stiles leapt over and grabbed his friend, pulling him out of the way.

"Scott," Stiles said. "Don't. Don't do it."

"I can stop him!"

"Doesn't mean you should."

After a few more moments, Stiles felt Scott relax and his body slump. The Chupacabra shrieked again and Stiles prepared to attack. But then Malia was there. She came from behind the half-breed and hit him in the head knocking him unconscious, just like that.

"Oh my God!" squealed Kate Argent also appearing. "What is that?"

Stiles helped Scott as they rose to their feet. "Another, um, attack."

Kate scrunched up her face in disgust.

Chris Argent, the guardian, was behind Malia. "Well, you managed not to kill this time. Congratulations, Tate. It's progress."

Malia didn't smile or anything; she seemed trouble. "We need to get Principal Finstock. He can... try to talk to him."

Kate turned away, looking a little green. "Why do people keep doing this to you, Scott? It's horrible."

Scott and Stiles exchanged a look.

"I have no idea," Stiles said. But as he walked to Finstock's office, he started to have some.

Peter Hale said they would come for Scott. That they were killing royals to get the throne. Back then, Stiles thought Peter meant Vampires. But what if that wasn't it? What if they meant half-breeds who wanted the throne? What if someone had killed Scott's parents in that car accident? What if Scott wasn't supposed to have walked from that?

Peter Hale had definitely been crazy and paranoid, but maybe he'd had reason to.

Stiles didn't mention any of this to Scott; he figured there were only so many conspiracy theories Scott could handle. Besides, the next day, Scott seemed almost happy: Finstock had given Stiles permission to go on the trip that weekend. The prospect of getting out of Beacon Hills could brighten a lot of dark situations — even attempted murder — and Stiles put his worries on hold.

Only, when the time came, he discovered his release came with strings attached: it wouldn't be a stroll through town, it'd be a mission.

"Principal Finstock thinks you've done well since coming back," Malia told him. She kept tugging at her sleeve and Stiles knew the Mark of Cain was bothering her. "I convinced him you needed a training exercise like this."

Gerard Argent, as sickly as ever, approached with his guardians. Kate gave him a careful hug, one that ended when a coughing fit took over him. Kate's eyes went wide with concern as she waited for it to pass. He claimed he was fine to accompany them, and Stiles admired his resolve. He was putting himself through a lot just to take his daughter shopping.

They rode out the two-hour trip to Missoula in a large school van, leaving just after sunrise. The back windows of the van had tinted glass to filter the light and keep the worst of it away from the night creatures. They had nine people in their group: Scott, Gerard, Kate, Malia, Stiles, Chris and three other guardians. Two of the guardians always traveled with Gerard. The third was one of the school's guardians: Adrian Harris.

"Kate doesn't have personal guardians yet," Malia explained to Stiles. "She's under the protection of her family's guardians. Since she is a student leaving campus, a school guardian accompanies her — Harris. I go because I'm Scott's assigned guardian. Most people his age wouldn't have a personal guardian yet, but circumstances make him unusual."

Stiles sat in the back of the van with her and Chris. Harris and the other two guardians sat up front, while the half-breeds sat in the middle. Scott and Gerard talked to each other a lot, catching up on news. Kate, on the other hand, looked left out and kept trying to shift her father's attention from Scott. It didn't work.

Stiles turned back to Malia. "Scott's supposed to have two guardians. Princes and princesses always do."

Chris Argent had spiky blond hair and a more casual attitude than Malia. "Don't worry, he'll have plenty when the time comes. Tate's already one of them. Odds are you'll be one too. And that's why you're here today."

"To train."

"Yup. You're going to be Tate's partner."

A moment of funny silence fell, probably not noticeable to anyone except Malia and Stiles. Their eyes met.

"Guarding partner," she clarified unnecessarily, like maybe she too had been thinking of other kinds of partners.

"Yup," agreed Chris. Oblivious to the tension around him, he went on to explain how guardian pairs worked. It was standard stuff, straight from the textbooks. Guardians were assigned to magical folk based on importance. Two was a common grouping. One guardian stayed close to the target; the other stood back and kept an eye on the surroundings.

"You'll probably always be near guard," Malia told him. "You're the same age and gender as Scott. You can stay close to him without attracting any attention."

Chris elbowed Malia. "Did you give him a stake yet?"

"No. He's not ready."

"I would be if someone would show me how to use one," Stiles argued.

"There's more to it than just using the stake," said Malia. "And the Vampires... you've still got to subdue them. And you've got to bring yourself to kill them."

"Why wouldn't I kill them?"

"Most Vampires used to be just like any other half-breed before they purposely turned. Sometimes they're turned by force. It doesn't matter. There's a strong chance you might know one of them. It's not so easy to kill someone you used to know."

"But it's the right thing to do. If it's them or Scott..."

"You might still hesitate," said Malia. "And hesitation usually ends in death. Yours and Scott's."

Stiles considered. "Then how do you make sure you don't hesitate?"

"You have to keep telling yourself that they aren't the same people you knew. They've become something... dark and twisted. Something unnatural. You have to let go of attachments and do what's right. If they have any grain of their former selves left, they'll probably be grateful."

"Grateful for me killing them?"

"If someone turned you into a Vampire, what would you want?" she asked. "If you knew you would lose all sense of your old morals and understanding of what's right and wrong? If you knew you'd live the rest of your life — your immortal life — killing innocent people? What would _you_ want?"

The van had grown uncomfortably silent. Staring at Malia, Stiles suddenly understood why they had this weird attraction. Stiles had never met anyone else who took being a guardian so seriously, who understood all the life-and-death consequences. They might get lonely sometimes. They might have to put their fun on hold. They might not be able to live the lives they wanted for themselves. But that was the way it had to be. They understood each other, understood that they had others to protect, lives that mattered more.

It would never be easy. And making decisions like this would only make it harder.

"If I became a Vampire... I'd want someone to kill me," he decided.

"So would I," she said quietly and Stiles could tell that she'd had the same flash of realization, that same sense of connection between them.

"It reminds me of Braeden hunting Peter," murmured Gerard thoughtfully.

"Who are Braeden and Peter?" asked Scott.

Gerard looked surprised. "Why, I thought you knew. Peter Hale."

"Peter Ha... You mean, Kira's uncle? What about him?"

"He... turned," said Gerard. "By choice."

Stiles and Scott shared utterly shocked looks. Another reason for the Hales and Yukimuras be ostracized. Stiles wondered if Kira knew about that. Probably yes.

"But I don't know who Braeden is," said Scott.

"Guardian Braeden," said Chris.

"Oh," said Stiles. She had been a guardian at the Academy before Stiles and Scott had left. He frowned. "Why is she chasing Peter Hale?"

"To kill him," said Malia flatly. "She was his guardian... and his lover."

The entire thing shifted into new focus.

"You did that too, didn't you?" Chris said to Malia.

The effect on her was immediate. Her face lost all the color, her eyes widened and her lips trembled. "Not exactly," she said.

Chris realized he shouldn't have said anything. "Sorry. I understand if you don't want to talk about it."

Malia looked out the window, purposely avoiding everyone's stare — especially Stiles'.

So that's how she'd gotten her slayer mark? She had killed a... a lover? Stiles wasn't sure he could imagine Malia with a lover, or at least, anyone that wasn't him. Unless... the boy that was caught in her room? Erica called him something but Stiles couldn't remember what it was.

And what? Did she just kill him? Like it was nothing? Was that why she didn't want to date Stiles? Was she afraid it might happen again? He knew the girl had trust issues, but he didn't realize how deep it really went.

He was aching to know more, but he knew this wasn't the time or place to ask her.

"Perhaps it is time to talk about something else," said Gerard gently ending the subject. "Today isn't a day to dwell on depressing topics."


	11. The Destroyed

Everyone felt relieved to get to the mall.

Shifting into his bodyguard role, Stiles stuck by Scott's side as they wandered from store to store, looking at all the new video-games they wouldn't get to play. It was nice to be in public again and to do something with Scott that was just fun and didn't involve any of the dark, twisted politics of Beacon Hills. It was almost like old times. Stiles had missed just hanging out. He'd missed his best friend.

Glancing around, Scott pulled Malia aside. Stiles followed them, interested. "Why wasn't I informed about Peter Hale?" The feelings in the bond shifted to something more troubled.

Malia shrugged. "You didn't need to know."

"They didn't think I could handle it? Someone is attacking the smallest royal families. They've got to have noticed it by now. First, my parents. Then all that has happened to the Hales and the Yukimuras. They're wiping us out." Scott sighed, his hands shaking. "What happened to Peter Hale? Why did he turn?"

Malia kept her face perfectly blank. "I don't know. They took him away because he was delusional. He lost his mind. He kept saying his brother and Noshiko Yukimura had been right. That turning was the only way to escape from the 'war for the throne'. And then he killed the doctor attending him and nearly took out half the patients and nurses on his way out. We don't know what happened to him after that."

"Do they have any idea where he went?"

"No, they're tracking him... but, they won't find him. That much is clear."

Scott shook his head. "I never expected him to do this. He never seemed like the type."

"Yeah, well, Peter Hale was crazy," Stiles butt in. "You remember how violent he was getting. He was capable of anything."

"Yes, but..." Scott hesitated. "Killing people and turning... That's not just crazy. That's something else entirely. "

Stiles watched his friend with curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"What if he wasn't crazy at all?" said Scott. "What if what's happening to me, also happened to him? Maybe he knew something and, I don't know, he was backed to a wall and found no other way out."

That was exactly what Stiles had been thinking a few days before, but he didn't want Scott to be having this kind of thoughts. It wasn't good for him.

"Look, man, you just—"

But Malia interrupted him. "Scott, what's wrong?"

Scott's eyes were blank. Stiles could feel he had a headache; its pain transferred to him. "I... I don't know. I just feel weird. I feel like I'm being followed, like I have to be careful, you know?"

Stiles didn't know what to say. Those were Peter Hale's words. Always paranoid. Always terrified. "It's probably nothing," he said lightly.

Scott's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Don't patronize me, Stiles." His voice was uncharacteristically sharp. "I hate when you do that. I'm not weak. You're not better than me."

Stiles was taken aback. "That's not what I said."

Hatred and anger boiled within Scott. Stiles could feel it in the bond. It felt like a storm, and it scared the hell out of him. Wrapped around it all was an uncertainty, an instability that said Scott didn't know what to do but that he wanted desperately to do something. _Anything_.

Suddenly, Stiles was scared. Because just then, he didn't know his best friend. He didn't know what Scott was capable of.

"Hey, Scott, calm down," he said grabbing his arm.

Confusion momentarily replaced Scott's anger. He shook his head once more. "No. Yeah. I know. I'm sorry. None of this is your fault, Stiles."

Exhaustion poured into Scott. He didn't understand his own feelings, and he was scared. Extremely scared. He'd been scared for weeks now, Stiles realized. He was on the edge of something neither of them understood. But through all of that, he trusted Stiles. He believed Stiles would keep him safe.

"Are you worried I'm going to lose it?" asked Scott. "Are you worried I'll turn, too?"

"No," answered Stiles with certainty. "No way. That was all Peter and the Yukimuras. You'd never do that."

"Even if I am crazy?"

"No," said Stiles, trying to make a joke. "If you were crazy, you'd just shave your head and go live in the mountains."

Scott's feelings only grew darker, but he didn't say anything else. Later, he decided, "I'll buy you something. A suit, maybe."

"I have a suit," said Stiles. "My dad gave me one once. He thought your parents would be taking me to fancy parties."

"They would," said Scott as they passed a shop window. "Then I'll buy you that," he said pointing at something. Stiles got closer to look. It was a bronze superman tie pin.

"That is awesome," Stiles had to admit.

Scott laughed. But when they saw the pin's price, their smiles fell away.

"Oh, look at that. Even the prince has limits," Stiles teased.

They rode home in tired silence. Sitting next to Malia, Stiles leaned back against the seat and yawned, very aware that their arms were touching. That feeling of closeness and connection burned between them.

"Will you ever tell me the story of how you got your slayer mark?" Stiles asked quietly not wanting to wake up the others.

"Not while we're on duty."

"When then?"

"Someday."

"When?"

"When I'm ready," she cut, but she wasn't being mean or anything. Her voice was weak but gentle. Stiles imagined she actually wanted to talk about it, but couldn't or didn't know how.

"I'll wait," he told her. He saw her smile and then fell asleep. When Stiles woke up, Malia's head rested against his shoulder. The van had stopped; they were back at the Academy.

 _Freedom was gone._

The next day, Hayden was seen flirting with Scott. Liam was spotted begging her to stay with him: whether it was because he loved her or because he feared for his life, remained to be seen.

Stiles didn't feel good about that. Scott was sort of crossing the line. He started spending his free time surrounded by royals who acted like he was king already, but that still did not bring him any joy. Stiles knew he was only trying to figure out which one of them was trying to kill him so bad, which didn't make things any better. Stiles doubted it was one of those kids anyway.

But Stiles' feelings were nothing, however, compared to Liam's. At lunch, he sat on the far side of the room from them, eyes fixed pointedly ahead, completely alone. He had blotchy pink patches on his pale, round cheeks, and his eyes were red-rimmed. He said nothing mean when Stiles walked past. No smug jokes. No mocking glares. He was defeated. He was destroyed.

The only person more miserable than him was Kira. Apparently, Scott was too busy to go to their meetings in the chapel's attic. Well, this was the moment Stiles had been waiting for. Since the party in Scott's dorm, Stiles had been meaning to ask Kira for help.

He went to sit with her. She looked surprised. "What do _you_ want?"

"Why aren't you hanging with Scott anymore?"

She shrugged. "I think he likes Hayden Romero better."

"I know he doesn't."

"I'm not a child, Stiles. I don't wanna play games," she said with a lot of honesty. "I'm not sure I can talk to him. Didn't you notice? He's turning into Prince Scott McCall again. I can't go near him, not when he's surrounded by all those royals."

"You're royal too," Stiles said. "And I'm pretty sure your name comes way first in the line of succession than Hayden's."

"They don't even consider the Yukimuras or the Hales as royals anymore. Our names being there doesn't mean much in a family full of Vampires."

"But you're not—wait! That's why he connects to you," Stiles realized with a start.

"Because I'm going to become a Vampire?" Kira asked snidely.

"No... because you lost your parents too. Both of you saw them die."

"Scott saw his parents die. I saw mine murdered."

Stiles flinched. "I know. I'm sorry, it must have been... well, I don't have any idea what it was like."

Her almond-shaped eyes went unfocused. "It was like seeing an army of death invade my house."

"You mean... your parents?"

She shook her head. "It wasn't like that. I saw them. They were still my parents. They still looked like my parents — a little paler, I guess. Some red in their eyes. But they walked and talked the same way. They didn't turn evil because they turned into Vampires. People don't just change like that."

"But that's impossible," argued Stiles. Vampires were vicious, evil creatures the moment they were made. Everyone knew that. Malia wouldn't have killed someone she loved if that person hadn't turned evil. "You're saying what everyone knows about Vampires is wrong?"

"I'm saying they were still my parents. Still kind, loving parents. Don't look at me like that," she added seeing his disbelief. "Fine, don't believe me. Whatever."

"Were they going to turn you?"

"I don't know. They didn't look like they were going to hurt me. They kept saying they wanted to protect me from evil half-breeds that were killing royals. But my Uncle Derek wouldn't let them take me. They tried to reason with him, but when he wouldn't listen, they tried to take me by force. My uncle fought them — got really messed up — and then the guardians showed up." Her eyes drifted back to Stiles. She smiled, but there was no happiness in it. "Like I said, an army of death."

"What about your Uncle Peter?"

Kira glanced at her untouched food. "He was a nice guy. A little weird, but nice. And after my parents died, he... he lost it. He believed in everything they had said. The conspiracy, all of it. And it destroyed him."

Stiles felt horrible. "Look, I... I think Scott is trying to cover his own unhappiness with parties with the royals. But he's miserable. The only moments he didn't feel like this, was when he was with you."

"I told you, I can't."

""I'm worried. He can't handle playing all these catty political games. It isn't good for him."

"Look, if I catch him alone... I'll try to talk to him. But honestly... I don't know what I can do for him. Sometimes he reminds me of Uncle Peter, when he gets all paranoid. Maybe... maybe if you really want to help him... well, I know I'm supposed to be all anti-establishment, but you might get the best help talking to somebody else. Finstock. Guardian Tate. I don't know. Someone who knows something. Someone you trust."

"Scott wouldn't like that."

"Yeah, well, we all have to do things we don't like. That's life."

"What are you, an after-school special?"

A ghostly smile flickered across her face. "If you weren't so psychotic, you'd be fun to hang around."

"Funny, I feel that way about you too."

Kira didn't say anything else, but the smile grew, and she walked away.

The whole day, Stiles walked around the Academy like a ghost. Nobody had eyes for him, their world was all Scott. People watched and occasionally spoke to Stiles, but few made much more effort than that. He was astonished when Kate Argent started walking toward him.

"Hey, Stiles. My dad asked me to give you this," and she handed him a small box with a piece of paper.

Surprised that Gerard would have given him anything, Stiles read the note. It was just a few lines, hastily scrawled in pen.

 _Stiles — I'm very happy to see you did so well on your first day as an official guardian. Scott is lucky to have you._

"That's nice of him," Stiles said, opening the box. Then he saw what was inside. "Whoa. Very nice." It was the superman tie pin, the one Scott had wanted to get him but couldn't afford. "This is pretty extreme for a present," he noted, recalling the price.

"He saw you and Scott looking at it," Kate shrugged. "I guess he really likes you."


	12. The Superman Effect

That afternoon, Kira finally delivered on her promise to Stiles. He was just hanging around his room when he felt strong emotions coming from Scott, and just like that he was dragged into his friend's head.

"You okay?" Kira was asking.

Scott looked up. Kira stood in the entrance to the attic. Scott hadn't even heard her come up the stairs. He'd been too lost in his own thoughts. A flicker of both longing and anger sparked within him. "I'm fine," he said.

Leaning against the wall, Kira crossed her arms and wore an unreadable expression. "Do... do you want to talk?"

Scott laughed harshly. "Do I look like I want to talk?"

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like a little bitch," she snapped. "How very miserable you are, Scott. You have friends, you have people who care, who love you. And yet, here you are, in this sad, dusty attic, again with the pity party."

Scott stood up and strode toward her. "What do you want?"

"Nothing." Her mask of indifference slipped back into place. "Forget it."

"What do you want, Kira?" Scott stepped closer. Even through his anger, he still felt that inexplicable attraction to her. "You're the one who stopped coming to see me. I was right here."

Kira stared stonily ahead. "It was for the best. I would have just messed things up for you. You wouldn't be where you are now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means? God. People live or die at your command now, Your Highness."

"You're being melodramatic."

"Me? All day, I hear people talking about what you're doing and what you're thinking and what you're wearing. Whether you'll approve. Who you like. Who you hate. They're your puppets."

"It's not like that. They welcomed me back because—"

Rolling her eyes, Kira looked away from him. "You don't even know what you're doing."

Scott's anger flared. "And you don't know what you want."

Kira turned back to him, a dark smile curling her lips. "Stiles said you needed help."

"Stiles knows nothing."

"No?" She sighed, momentarily thoughtful, then snapped back to sarcastic mode. "I saw you got back at Liam. What was it he did to you again? I seem to have forgotten his bad deeds."

Scott frowned. "I—"

She didn't let him explain. "Who are you kidding, Scott? You don't want this. You don't like revenge. You don't like to work on a lot of committees with royals. Liam is just a poor insecure boy who was afraid of having his heart broken. Are you happy now that he's miserable?"

The smallest pang of guilt lurched inside of Scott. "I didn't ask Hayden to brake up with him."

"But you didn't stop her either. You could've told her she had no chance with you. That status didn't matter. That if she really loved that kid, nothing should get in their way of being happy. Why didn't you?"

Scott was at loss for words.

"You're the one who needs to figure things out. I know what I want."

"And what is that?"

Kira leaned forward and kissed him. It was hot and fast and furious, an outpouring of rage and passion and longing. Stiles felt Scott respond to it, respond to her — how she made him feel so much more alive than anyone else could. Kira pulled back from the kiss but still kept her face next to his. "That's what."

Scott's heart pounded with both anger and desire. "I want that too," he told her.

Kira smiled. "Anything for you, Your Highness."

* * *

When the dance came that weekend, Stiles decided he really didn't want to go. It had sounded stupid to begin with, and he'd only been interested in going to the after-parties anyway. But about ten minutes after the dance's start time, Erica knocked on his door. She was wearing a very short, very sexy, red dress.

"How do you keep doing this?" he asked.

"There you are, party boy. I was about ready to give up."

"Did you start another fire?"

"Let me in, loser. You've got to get ready."

"No. I'm not going."

"Oh, but you are," she prodded, following Stiles inside. "No reason for you to stay here all night. Boyd's getting a group together over in his room later."

Stiles's old, fun-loving spirit perked its head up just a bit. "Yeah?"

Seeing that she was starting to get him, Erica grinned. Looking at her cat-like eyes, Stiles realized again how much she liked him. "It'll just be novices," she continued. "And who knows, maybe later we can have some fun just the two of us."

Fifteen minutes later, they cut across the quad back over to the commons, moving quickly over the frozen ground, and Stiles had to keep grabbing Erica's arm to keep her from falling over because of her high heels. It made them laugh that much more. A happy feeling started to well up in Stiles.

And that's when they ran into Malia and Chris, talking guardian business. Chris smiled when he saw them. Stiles stumbled to a halt, and Erica put a hand on his arm possessively. "Miss Reyes, Mr. Stilinski. I'm surprised you aren't already in the commons."

Erica gave Chris an angelic smile. "Got delayed, Guardian Argent. You know how Stiles is. Always got to look perfect. He's like a bride."

Stiles was staring at Malia. Remembering how Erica sort of held his hand, Stiles pulled away from her. Erica and Chris finished up their joking remarks, and then they all went their separate ways.

Music blasted inside the commons when they arrived. Gyrating bodies, mostly underclassmen, packed the dance floor. Erica took Stiles' hand again. "Come on."

Letting her lead him, Stiles walked across the room, cutting through a cluster of freshmen who looked way too young to be doing the kind of pelvic thrusts they were attempting. Stiles stared across the gym to where Scott stood with Kira. They were focused on each other, far, far away from the other royals. That brought a smile to Stiles' face.

"Stop it," Erica chided him, seeing his stare. "Don't worry about Scott tonight. He's fine. He's having fun. Why can't we?"

"I'm not worrying."

"Good. 'Cause it makes you look depressed. And you're too hot to look depressed, Superman," she said smiling at his tie pin. "Come on, there's Boyd." Erica dragged Stiles away, but not before Stiles cast one last glance at Scott over his shoulder. Their eyes met briefly. Stiles gave him the thumbs-up.

Stiles was actually having a good time. He fell into his old role, happy to see he hadn't grown too dusty in making funny and flirty remarks. Yet, as time passed and Boyd's party grew closer, he started to feel Scott's anxiety pick up in intensity. Frowning, he stopped talking and turned around, scanning the room for him.

There. Scott was still with Kira, but Hayden Romero was there too. Stiles couldn't hear the words from across the room, but the feelings grew lighter and lighter through the bond, and he suspected Scott was trying to fix the Hayden and Liam situation, like Kira had suggested.

Stiles felt a great wave of happiness that he knew was both his and Scott's.

The rest of the night was a blur of dancing, drinking and Erica's hands all over him. Stiles didn't realized something was wrong until he felt a pain in his heart — in Scott's heart — _Kira! Kira!_ he was saying.

Kira was hurt.

Stiles snapped back into Scott's body, suddenly sucked in by the terror pounding through him. Scott was surrounded, surrounded by men and women who had come out of nowhere, bursting up into the attic of the chapel where he and Kira had gone to talk. Kira leapt up, lightning flaring from her fingers. One of the invaders stabbed her with a silver stake and she fell to the ground.

The attackers approached Scott, calling him Prince and telling him not to worry, and that they were guardians. And they did seem like guardians. Definitely humans. Moving in precise, efficient ways. But Stiles didn't recognize them as any of the guardians from school. Neither did Scott. Guardians wouldn't have attacked Kira. And guardians certainly wouldn't be trying to jump Scott—

Something forced Stiles out of Scott's head, and he frowned, staring around the room. Usually the connection just faded or he closed it off, but this — this was like something had actually removed Stiles and pulled him back here. But that made no sense. What could pull him back from... _wait._

His mind blanked. Stiles couldn't remember what he'd just been thinking about. It was gone.

 _Scott. Something with Scott._

Stiles looked around the room desperately trying to find one person — Malia. Where was Malia? His body and spirit burned for her all of a sudden, and he wanted to be with her more than he ever had before. Stiles couldn't stay away from her.

"Where are you going?" asked Erica when Stiles started to run. He didn't know where to find Malia, but it didn't matter. Something was pulling him to her, urging him closer. An instinct pushed him toward one of the corridors and Stiles came face to face with her, her brown eyes widening when she saw him.

"Stiles?"

The sound of her voice thrilled him, and Stiles couldn't answer. He could only stare at her. The force that had pulled him there was now pulling him to her. Stiles wanted to touch her so badly, so badly he could barely stand it. She was so amazing. So unbelievably gorgeous. Stiles knew somewhere something was wrong, but it didn't seem important. Not when he was with her.

Once more, he tried to kiss her. And once more, she stepped back. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?"

Stiles moved toward her again, needing to touch her and kiss her and do so many other things.

"Are you drunk?" she asked, holding her hand out in a warding gesture.

"Don't I wish." Stiles tried to dodge around her, then paused, momentarily uncertain. "I thought you wanted to — don't you like me?" In all the time they'd known each other, in all the time this attraction had built, she'd never actually said she liked him. She'd hinted at it, but that wasn't the same.

"Stiles, I don't know what's going on, but you need to go back to your room—" This time, when Stiles moved toward her, Malia reached out and gripped his wrists. With that touch, an electric current shot through both of them, and Stiles saw her forget whatever she'd just been worrying about. Something seized her too, something that made her suddenly want him as much as he wanted her.

Malia released his wrists and Stiles pulled her to him, pressing her right up to his body. One of her hands moved up the back of his neck, twining her fingers in his hair. He kissed her, gentle at first, and then hard and hungry. The kiss consumed Stiles. He melted into her, into that kiss and the way it burned against his mouth. His hands kept sliding up and down, until he pressed her against the nearest wall and clothes started to come off.


	13. The Truth Hurts

After yearning for her for so long, Stiles could barely believe this was happening. And while the physical stuff felt great, he also just liked being close to her. And somewhere, somewhere in all of this, was that same urging voice that had driven him here, a voice that didn't sound like his own but that he was powerless to ignore.

 _Stay with her, stay with her. Don't think about anything else except her. Keep touching her. Forget about everything else._

Stiles listened.

Then, kissing her neck, he caught sight of the tattoo there. Stiles brushed his fingertips over the tiny slayer mark. "Do you feel guilty about it?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"Killing him," he said between kisses. "You said in the van that it was the right thing to do, but it still bothers you. It's why you go to church, isn't it? I see you there, but you aren't really into the services. You go for him."

Malia was surprised he'd guessed another secret about her. "How do you know these things?" she whispered. "I _wanted_ to kill him," she admitted. "As soon as I heard of what he'd done. I was mad and disappointed and betrayed. But I was also afraid and I didn't go after him like Braeden did Peter. He came to me, instead. Sometimes I find peace in the chapel, but not often. I find more peace with you."

Stiles wanted to think about what she had said, but the kissing picked up once more, harder this time, and he couldn't concentrate. _Oh God yes,_ he thought. Still kissing him, Malia took off his purple tie and threw it on the ground. She began unbuttoning his shirt, but, as soon as the superman pin hit the floor, they both felt like they'd been slapped in the face.

Stiles blinked in surprise.

"What happened?" asked Malia.

"I—I don't know." Stiles felt like he was trying to wake up, like he'd been asleep for two days. He needed to remember something.

 _Scott. Something with Scott._

His head felt funny. Not pain or dizziness, but... the voice, he realized. The voice urging him toward Malia was gone. That wasn't to say he didn't want her anymore because hey, seeing her there with that brown hair spilling over the side of her face was pretty fine. But he no longer had that outside influence pushing him to her.

Malia frowned. After several moments of thought, she reached over and picked up the purple tie. The instant her fingers touched it, Stiles saw desire sweep over her again. She quickly let the tie fall back onto the ground.

"There's something... something here... The pin. That's the one Prince Gerard gave you?"

Stiles nodded. Taking a deep breath, Malia pushed him away.

"What are you doing?"

She looked like she wanted to continue that — very much so — but instead she took a few steps away. Stiles had that startling sensation of waking up, like he could think clearly once more without his body making all the decisions. He was awake. Painfully, startlingly so.

Stiles took in his surroundings.

"Scott!" he gasped out. It all came back, the memories and the emotions. Scott's held-back emotions suddenly poured into Stiles — at staggering levels. More terror. Intense terror. Those feelings wanted to suck Stiles back into Scott's body, but he couldn't let them. Not quite yet. He fought against him, needing to stay here. With the words coming out in a rush, Stiles told Malia everything that had happened.

She was in motion before he'd finished. Stiles had a hard time following her downstairs; she made no effort to slow for him this time. Orders were shouted when they got there. Before long, Stiles ended up in the guardians' main office with Malia. Finstock and other teachers were there. Most of the campus' guardians. Everyone seemed to speak at once. All the while, Stiles felt Scott's fear, felt him moving farther and farther away.

He yelled at them to hurry up and do something, but no one except Malia would believe his story about Scott being attacked by guardians until someone retrieved Kira from the chapel. They immediately took her to the clinic. Dr. Deaton checked her out and said that the stake wasn't very deep inside of her and had missed all the important organs. He removed it and patched her up before long.

"How many Vampires were there?" one of the guardians asked Stiles.

"How in the world did they get in?" muttered someone else.

Stiles stared. "Wh—? Weren't you listening? There weren't any."

Several sets of eyes stared at him. "Who else would have attacked him?" asked Finstock primly. "You must have seen it wrong through the... vision."

"No. I'm positive. It was... they were... guardians."

"He's right," mumbled Kira, still under the doctor's ministrations. "Guardians."

"That's impossible," someone said.

"They weren't school guardians." Stiles rubbed his forehead. "Will you guys get moving? He's getting farther away!"

"You're saying a group of privately retained guardians came in and tried to murder Miss Yukimura and Mr McCall?" The tone in Finstock's voice implied Stiles was playing some kind of joke.

"Yes," he replied through gritted teeth. "Scott turned and got away. He's out there right now, still running from them. Being hunted."

Slowly, carefully, Stiles slipped his mental restraint and flew into Scott's body. Scott was in Werewolf form running through the woods of the Academy — Beacon Hills owned a lot of land. Then suddenly, something hit him from the back. A sting. Scott felt something liquid entering his veins. The pain almost blinded him, but he didn't stop running.

Stiles moaned. "Do something!" he urged. "He's been hurt! Something stung him. I couldn't see what it was. He's heading south through the forest."

Finstock was still looking at Stiles with suspicion. "If you were so worried about your friend, why didn't you come to me sooner? According to Miss Yukimura over there, all of this happened more than fifteen minutes ago."

Stiles' eyes turned anxiously to Malia.

"A compulsion spell," she said slowly. "A compulsion spell put into a tie pin Prince Gerard gave him. It made Stiles attack me."

"Are you saying Prince Gerard is somehow responsible for all of this, Guardian Tate?" exclaimed Finstock.

Malia shook her head, face perfectly controlled. "Of course not. But someone did that. And it made us lose a lot of time. Kind of like we are doing now."

Finally, _finally_ , the group moved into action and Finstock started bossing everyone around. He wanted guardians protecting the other students and absolutely wanted Stiles to stay in the clinic. Malia asked Stiles to tell her Scott's precise location.

Giving her a sidelong glance, Stiles replayed tonight's earlier events. In his mind's eye, he could see it all again, the way she'd looked at him, and touched him, and kissed him. But what had it been? An illusion? A trick? What had it all meant? Had it meant anything to her?

"Why are you doing this? What's going on?" asked Scott. His feelings had pulled Stiles into him again.

Now, he was lying on the ground, contorting as the pain in his back worsened. He was staring at someone wide-eyed, with utter shock and disappointment.

"Come, my boy," said Gerard Argent, moving unsteady on his cane. His face shone under the moonlight. He had two of his guardians behind him. "Do you think I'd seriously hurt you if I had a choice?"

"What did you do to Kira? Is she dead?

"The Yukimura girl? I certainly hope so. We'd hoped to catch you alone, to convince the others you'd run away again. It was an excellent thing you being with her of all people. Her name is before mine in the line of succession, did you know that? Of course, these days, after what her parents did, it hardly matters. But I don't like taking chances."

"Is that why you're doing this?" muttered Scott. "You want to be king? So you have to get rid of the people who come before you?"

Gerard cold eyes narrowed. "Yes. And unfortunately, the McCalls come before the Argents."

Scott's heart skipped a beat. "Did you kill my parents?"

"I'm sorry, Scotty," said Gerard and he looked it. "I had to. It was the only way. This is the time for the Argents. And thankfully to the choices Peter Hale, Ken and Noshiko Yukimura made, disgracing their names, now there's only you and Queen Natalie stopping me from my destiny."

"How could you? They trusted you. They were your friends."

"And I loved them as such. But I'm sick and I won't live for much longer. I need to rush things, you see. It's a matter of which life means more. I love you too, dear boy, I do. Very much. But we are falling apart. Our numbers are dropping as we let the Vampires prey upon us. We used to actively seek them out. Now Natalie Martin and the other leaders hide away. They keep you and your peers isolated. In the old days, you were trained to fight alongside your guardians! You were taught to use your abilities as a weapon. Not anymore. Now we wait. Now we are victims. I will changed that when I'm the king. I'll bring about a revolution the likes of which neither Vampires or other half-breeds have ever seen. I should have been Natalie's heir. She was ready to name me before they discovered the disease, and then she chose you."

His words triggered something inside of Scott, a sudden consideration for the state of the half-breeds. He'd never contemplated what Gerard was saying, about how different it might be if the magical community and their guardians fought side by side to rid the world of the Vampires and their evil. It reminded Scott of Kira and what she'd said about using magic as a weapon too.

"I'm sorry," Scott whispered. "I'm sorry for you, Gerard. But please don't do this."

"I have to."

Scott looked him straight in the eye. "You don't."

Gerard inclined his head. His voice was less kindly when he spoke again. "One way or another, I will be king." He looked at his wristwatch. "You might have noticed, my boy, you've been stung by a Aqrabuamelu. The Akkadian Scorpion. Very interesting beings. They like chaos. They are good observers. Old writings about them say that their 'terror is great indeed' and their 'glance is death.'" Gerard smiled. "But the best part about them is the venom. You know, the only cure is the tear of a water being. But you don't have time for cures, dear Scott. You're dead already."

Back in the clinic, Stiles gasped. "He poisoned him! It's bad. Really bad! It is Gerard Argent," he almost shouted.

Finstock's crazy eyes got even crazier. "Let's go, Guardian Tate," he said rushing out of there.

Stiles felt Scott loosing consciousness. This was bad. Stiles began to follow Finstock, but Malia stopped him. "You stay here."

"The hell with that."

Malia cupped his chin with her hands, fixing him with her eyes. "Your job is done. You did it well. Now I need you to stay safe."

Only the realization that arguing would delay the rescue kept him quiet. Swallowing back any protests, Stiles nodded. Malia and the others slipped out of there, leaving Stiles and Kira alone.

Stiles felt Scott struggling to keep his eyes open. Gerard heard sounds and looked around. "They might be coming for him. Stiles," he said as if remembering something. "I forgot about Stilinski. He might know exactly where Scott is. We should go," he told his guardians. "We should find the boy and kill him too."

When Scott was left alone, he scrambled to his feet and ran back the way he had come — or at least he tried. He was worried about Stiles. He would not let them get to Stiles. He had to warn him. Oh, how he hoped Stiles knew everything that was happening, hoped the bond was working full-force.

At any other time, Stiles would have cheered on his boldness, but not this time. Not when he was bleeding so much and going the wrong way. Scott needed to stay put or the guardians would never find him.

Unfortunately, he didn't.


	14. The Surprise Act

Stiles swore out loud.

"What? What'd you see?" asked Kira, struggling to get out of the bed.

"Hey," said Stiles trying to stop her. "You've lost a lot of blood. You need to stay put."

Kira shrugged like it didn't matter. "What's happening?" she insisted. "Did you see something new?"

Hastily, Stiles told her. He waited until Dr Deaton went to check on some other patient and said, "I'm going to go get him before he does something crazy. Like turning into a Werewolf and killing people. I have to find him." Seeing Kira's face, Stiles couldn't resist giving her a dry smile. "And let me guess... You're coming with me?"

It was so hard to stay out of Scott's head. The strength of his thoughts and feelings kept trying to pull Stiles in as he hurried to the forest. Running through the brush and woods, Kira and Stiles moved farther and farther from the Academy. Scott wasn't moving very quickly, and Stiles could feel the distance closing between them, giving him a more precise idea of his friend's location.

When Stiles reached a point close enough to Scott that he thought he could hear him, Stiles called out his name, hoping to get him to turn around. Instead, of course, all that did was give away Scott's location to a pair of Trolls.

So Gerard had been responsible for the Trolls as well. Stiles wondered how twisted one had to be to mingle with Trolls.

Stiles reached the clearing where Scott cringed, back against a tree. He was hurt, confused, unsure if he should turn into a Werewolf or not. Wide-eyed and pale, he stared in horror at the Trolls cornering him.

"Hey," Stiles yelled at the Trolls, trying to draw them toward him.

They turned, teeth bared and drool coming out of their mouths. They weren't very tall or particularly bright, but they were large and strong.

Stiles picked up a branch from the ground that had about the same heft and weight as a baseball bat. The Trolls came at him. Stiles hit one hard on the knee and, out of nowhere, Scott the Werewolf appeared and jumped the other one.

Oh, and Kira was there too.

"Get out of here," Stiles yelled at her. He couldn't even hope to protect Scott and Kira at the same time.

But Kira didn't listen. She picked up a branch as well and swung it at one of the Trolls. Electricity burst from the wood. But that didn't stop the half-breed. The Troll sprang at her, hitting her hard. The branch flew from her hands and Kira fell backwards and didn't get up.

Rescue appeared in the form of Chris Argent, emerging through some trees. But Stiles didn't get to see anything else, because one of the Trolls hit him over the head and he blacked out.

* * *

Eventually, Stiles woke up in the Academy's clinic, where they forced fluids and sugar into him. He felt strange, kind of disoriented, but he didn't hurt.

"Stiles."

Turning his head, Stiles met Malia's dark eyes. "Hey," he croaked.

"How do you feel?"

"Weird. Kind of groggy. I don't remember... What happened?"

"A Troll hit you. Chris handled it pretty well. And your friends are both fine."

Short version.

"Scott — Scott's fine? How did he... The venom...?"

Malia made a gesture for him to calm down. "He was in a pretty bad shape when I got to him. He'd lost a lot of blood and the poison was almost reaching his heart. We rushed him back to Alan Deaton, who said we needed the tear of a water half-breed to cure Scott. And fast."

"And how did you get that?"

"A student offered to help. Liam Dunbar."

Stiles' mouth fell open. Liam had offered to save Scott's life? What was happening to the world? What was life?

"Why in the world would he do that?" What could he hope to gain?

Malia shrugged. " _'All the things my body once did by itself, it does now only by special order... A single moment of inattention and I forget to breathe,'_ " she recited.

"What's that?"

"Something an Undine once wrote. They are very kind creatures, Stiles. Loyal. Soulful. An Undine will never cease to surprise you."

Stiles guessed she was right. "What about Gerard?"

"Mostly all the students know what he did. Some of his guardians died when we attacked — a damned shame, when guardian numbers are so low already. And... Gerard is now being held under 24/7 guard at the school, waiting for a royal regiment of guardians to carry him away to prison. His Trolls were already sent away. How are you feeling?"

Stiles carefully shifted to the edge of the bed. "Not bad. Guess, I got lucky. If I hurt badly, they'd put me out of practice for a while. I can't believe I was taken down by a Troll! It was so easy the first time. And I survived that day guarding Scott, and you guys said I did a good job. Then, I meet my downfall in the form of a stupid Troll. You know, I think they're getting smarter..."

"It was your own fault," she said. "I told you to stay in here. I'm glad you're better, though. When I saw you fall..."

"You thought, _'What a loser.'_ "

"That's not what I thought."

She sat on the bed beside him where they could see each other better. Her eyes were so dark and deep it made him feel warm all over, like they had flames inside. Just the thought of kissing her again made the world start spinning.

"Stiles..." she began after several minutes. "They are asking about what delayed us."

That was like the last thing he expected her to say. Definitely not what he wanted to hear.

"But you told them. It was a charm, right? Besides, you can tell them the truth if you want. I don't think there's any laws against kiss—"

"There are a lot of laws about that. It specifically says we cannot cavort with other guardians—"

"Cavort?"

"—especially if one of them is a student."

"Did you say cavort?" When she didn't answer, he added: "Either way, we couldn't help it if it really was a spell."

"It was stupid."

Stiles didn't like her tone. "Look, it's not a big deal."

Malia met his eyes with a deep and serious intensity. "I worked very hard to get here."

"Everybody knows that."

She shook her head. "I... I _don't_ know what I'm doing. I pretend I do, yes. And I've already been discredited for... for..."

"If you say cavort again, I'll leave."

Malia didn't smile. "For being with another guardian. We're not allowed to do that. And now I have this horrible brand on my arm." Stiles couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. She looked on the verge of breaking into tears. She looked almost... _human_. "I know who I am and I know what I want. I want to be a guardian," she said more fiercely. "And a guardian can't have—"

"Love?" he finished for her. The message — the rejection — came through loud and clear. She didn't want to do that. She didn't want to take the chance and face whatever consequences with him. She wouldn't even try. He was not worth it. Her career was more important. She was going to leave him just like his dad had done.

"It was only a spell," she said and this time there was no kindness in her voice.

Humiliated and angry, Stiles refused to make a fool of himself by arguing or begging. Instead, he just shrugged. "Yeah."

* * *

Meanwhile, Scott, without anymore hesitance, started dating Kira, not caring about the consequences to his reputation. Guess some people had all the luck. Seeing them out in public, holding hands, made Stiles' heart ache.

Kira didn't quite seem able to believe it herself. The rest of their classmates were almost too stunned to even comprehend it yet. They could barely process acknowledging her existence, let alone her being with someone like Scott.

Before school the next day, Stiles made his way to where Gerard was being held. The Academy had honest-to-goodness cells, complete with bars, and two guardians stood watch in the hallway nearby. They allowed Stiles five minutes to speak.

Standing outside Gerard's cell, Stiles couldn't believe he'd once felt sorry for the man. Gerard sat cross-legged on a narrow bed, reading. When he heard Stiles approach, he looked up.

"Why Stiles, what a nice surprise. Your ingenuity never fails to impress me. I didn't think they'd allow me any visitors."

Stiles crossed his arms, trying to put on a look of total guardian fierceness. "I want you to break the spell. Finish it off."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"The spell you did on me and Malia."

Gerard snorted. "That spell is done, Stiles. It burned itself out. A Fairy prepared that for me. But their magic don't last long. It was only a small distraction, you see. I needed you out of my way for a few hours until I could come back and kill you."

Stiles chose to ignore that last part. "No. I keep thinking about her. I keep wanting to..."

Gerard smiled knowingly. "Young man, that was already there, long before I set the spell."

"No. It wasn't like this before. It didn't hurt this much."

"Then it grew. Everything else... the attraction — physical and mental — was already in you. _And_ in her. It wouldn't have worked otherwise. The spell didn't really add anything new — it just removed inhibitions and strengthened your deepest desires."

Stiles swallowed. "You're lying. I've talked to her. She doesn't seem to be struggling with this. It's only me."

"Then she's the liar, Stiles, not me. I tell you, the spell wouldn't have worked otherwise, and honestly, she should have known better. She used to feel that way for that Matt Daehler boy back when she first came to Beacon Hills. They dated for the longest time in secret, until they were caught. Apparently, Malia Tate never learns."

 _Matt Daehler..._ Stiles knew Matt Daehler. He'd been a shy guy who'd enjoyed photographing people around the Academy. Stiles didn't remember him having any friends of ever seeing him with Malia at school. But Stiles hadn't payed attention back then.

"What happened to Matt Daehler?" It felt wrong asking Gerard Argent, like Stiles was somehow betraying Malia's trust. But he couldn't help it. He needed to know.

Gerard didn't seem to know or care. "He was a shallow boy. Always trying to call attention to himself. Tate was able to control his urges, but sometimes the boy would cross the line. But I won't pretend to know. You'll have to ask her why he chose to turn."

"You're a sick bastard, you know that?"

Gerard laughed. "I have no regrets about what I did," he declared, leaning against the wall. "I'd do it again if I could. Believe what you want, Stiles, I love my people. It is them that I serve. What I did was in their best interest. Of course, Ken and Noshiko Yukimura didn't think so when they found out what I'd done to the McCalls. But they were weak. Instead of fighting me, they chose to turn, incidentally, giving up their right to the throne. I suppose cowardice must run in that family because Peter Hale did the same thing when he realize I'd come for him next. He got out of my way just as easily as his brother had." Gerard cocked his head toward Stiles, considering. "Scott actually might be a good leader to our people — if he opens his eyes and starts listening to the people. He has the blood of the McCalls, which is no small thing. And of course, he has you and your incredible bond. You're so reckless in the things you do, Stiles. You don't hold back your feelings, your passion, your anger. It makes you remarkable. It makes you dangerous. But with your help, Scott may surprise us yet."

Stiles head was spinning. He couldn't process how someone could be so evil. They way Gerard talked about the lives he had destroyed... it was like he was discussing his favorite types of tea.

"What were you going to do after killing Scott? Maybe Derek Hale's and Kira Yukimura's place in the line of succession don't matter anymore, but what about Natalie Martin? You think killing her would be that easy?"

"There are other ways of taking power, Stiles. Sometimes it's necessary to go outside the established channels. But yes, I'd have killed her if necessary. Do you think I don't have an army of half-breeds following me? You saw the Maero, the Pixie, the Chupacabra. And that was only a portion of my power. They didn't need much persuasion to go after their own people. A lot of us are dissatisfied with how things are being done. Remember, Stiles, the greatest and most powerful revolutions often start very quietly, hidden in the shadows."

Odd sounds came from the detention center's entrance. The guardians who had let Stiles in were gone.

Gerard stood up. "Finally."

Fear spiked down Stiles' spine — at least until he saw Kate round the corner.


	15. The Akkadian Scorpion

Mixed sympathy and anger flitted through Stiles, but he forced a kind smile. She probably wouldn't see her father ever again once they took him away. Villain or no, they should be allowed to say goodbye.

"Hey," Stiles said, watching her stride toward him. There was an unusual purpose in her movements. That was odd; Kate was the clumsier person he knew. "I didn't think they'd let you in." But then they weren't supposed to have let him in either.

Kate walked right up to Stiles and — no exaggeration — launched him against the far wall. His body hit it hard, and black star-bursts danced across his vision.

"What...?" Stiles put a hand to his forehead and tried to get up.

Kate unlocked Gerard's cell with a set of keys. Staggering to his feet, Stiles approached her.

"What are you doing?"

Kate glanced up at him, and that's when he saw it. The faint ring of red around her pupils. Skin too pale. Blood smudged around her mouth. She gave him a look that said she no longer walked among the living — a look that said she was now undead.

"My daughter was a great help to my plans," said Gerard cheerfully. "My precious Aqrabuamelu."

Stiles was shocked at how stupid he'd been. Of course — of course — it had been Kate. She was the Akkadian Scorpion. Why didn't he ever showed enough interest to ask her what she was?

"Maybe that's why your plans sucked," Stiles provoked. Bad idea. When she swung at him again, Stiles dodged back, slipping out of reach, wondering what chance he had. _No, he couldn't die at school!_ Feeling useless, he simply backed down the hall as she advanced on him, her movements far more graceful than they'd ever been in life.

Then, also faster than she'd ever moved in life, she leapt out, grabbed him, and slammed his head against the wall three times. Pain exploded in his skull, and Stiles felt pretty sure that was blood he tasted in the back of his mouth. He fell down, his head spinning, his muscles refusing to work.

 _Okay, so he was most likely going to die at school._

"My dear," murmured Gerard, "I'll be waiting outside."

Kate nodded. "I'll meet you there when I'm done with him, daddy."

"You got your own daughter to turn?" Stiles shouted at Gerard.

"A last resort. A necessary sacrifice made for the greater good. Katherine understands." And he left.

"Do you?" Stiles turned to Kate. "Do you understand? God, Kate. You... you're a Vampire! Just because he told you to?"

"My father's a great man," she replied. "He's going to save us all."

"Are you insane?" Stiles cried.

"What, you're gonna tell me you're satisfied at how things work around here? Please. All the rules, all the hate and the prejudice? You think I don't know you're in love with your mentor? Do you think you'll ever get to be together, Stiles? They won't let you. They'll laugh at it. They don't let people be what they want to be. They don't let anyone be happy around here. And the worst part is that everything they've been telling us are all lies. They don't know anything about Vampires."

"They know enough. You kill people. You can't help it."

"You're a fool, Stiles. None of what they said is true. And how could they know? They never bothered to ask. They banished the Vampires, took away their rights to live among us, took their rights to be a part of the Half-Breed Council. They've killed most for the crimes of the few, and never accepted that we are half-breed just like the rest of them. God must've made the first Vampire, don't you think?" She reached down and grabbed Stiles' shoulders. "Now we'll change everything. One Vampire to save the half-breeds. Can you imagine what this will do to the system? It'll be worth it. Worth giving up life, magic, and everything else."

She threw him into a wall again, and as his body collapsed in a heap on the floor. Stiles could barely move. She said not all Vampires were evil and they could control themselves if they wanted to, but the look in her eyes — she wanted to feed off him; the hunger was there. It was the Vampire way. It was all they were.

 _Oh, I can't believe I'm dying at school!_ , thought Stiles. _That's like the lamest place to die._

Stiles should've killed her the moment he saw her for what she was. Malia was right; he'd hesitated and hesitation led to death.

Suddenly, as if he had summoned her with his thoughts, Malia was there, charging down the hallway.

Kate spun around. She was fast, so fast. But Malia was fast too and avoided her attack, a look of pure power and strength on her face. With an eerie fascination, Stiles watched them move, even though he was on the verge of passing out. Kate was stronger than Malia, clearly, but she was also a fresh Vampire. Gaining superpowers didn't mean you knew how to use them. She shouldn't have stopped being the Akkadian Scorpion. It would've helped her more.

Malia, however, knew how to use the abilities she had. She made her move. The silver stake flashed in her hand like a streak of lightning, then it snaked forward — into Kate's heart. Malia yanked it out and stepped back, her face impassive as Kate screamed and fell to the floor. She moved no longer.

Then Malia was leaning over Stiles.

"Hey," murmured Stiles, his eyes closing. "You were right."

"Keep your eyes open, stupid." Stiles had never heard her voice so strained, so frantic. "Keep them open, Stiles, God damn it!"

She pulled him up against the wall but it was no good: Stiles was losing all his strength. He slipped back down.

"Was he right?" he whispered.

"Who?"

"Gerard... he said it couldn't have worked. The superman pin." Stiles started to drift off, lost in the blackness of his mind. "The spell. He said you had to... feel something... for it to work."

"Stiles..." Malia knelt beside him. "Yes," she said quickly. "I do."

He smiled faintly. "I do too."

"But we can't," she whispered.

"Why not?"

For the first time ever, Stiles saw her eyes water up. Or he thought he saw it. He could be imagining it.

"Because... Because I need to give my life to save Scott's." The black sparkles were dancing in front of his eyes again. He was fading out, but he tried to pay attention to her words. "But... If I let myself love you, I'll give my life to save you, instead."

Somehow, in another level of awareness, Stiles understood what she was saying, how important her sacrifice had been when she had rejected him. He hated himself for ever thinking she didn't love him. She did. She loved him so much, so deep, she knew from the beginning this could never be, because Stiles had Scott and Scott mattered more. She had been willing to break her own heart so save Stiles from losing his best friend in the world.

After realizing all that, Stiles mind went blank.

* * *

Stiles had to stay in the infirmary for a couple of days to fix his concussion, but it was fine because Scott, Kira and Erica almost never left Stiles' side when they weren't in class. Through them, Stiles learned bits and pieces about the outside world. Rumors said that Gerard hadn't seemed afraid at all when the royal guards came and carried him away. He'd simply smiled the whole time, like he had some secret they didn't know about.

In, as much as it could, life returned to normal after that.

The school still couldn't get over the fact that Scott was dating Kira Yukimura. Scott didn't care. He laughed it off, ignoring the shocked looks and disdain from the royals who couldn't believe he'd date someone from a humiliated family. Not all of them felt that way though. Some who had gotten to know him during his brief social whirlwind actually liked him for him. They liked his honesty and openness, preferring it to the games most royals played.

Liam and Hayden were back together: apparently, Scott had shown her that people should be free to love whoever they wanted to and, in return, she had convinced Liam to save Scott's life. Liam didn't change how he was toward them though; Stiles walked past him one day on the way to dinner and heard him talking trash about Scott and Kira.

"—perfect match. Both of them are from completely disgraced and rejected families."

Stiles clenched his teeth and kept walking, following Liam's gaze to where Scott and Kira stood. They were lost in their own world. Liam was right. Both of their families were disgraced. Queen Natalie had publicly denounced Scott, and while no one blamed Kira for what had happened to her parents, the rest of the royal families continued to keep their distance and refused to acknowledge her status.

But Liam had been right about the other part too. In some ways, Scott and Kira were perfect for each other. Maybe they were outcasts, but the McCalls and Yukimuras had once been among the most powerful leaders. And in only a very short time, Scott and Kira had started shaping one another in ways that could put them right up there with their ancestors.

The more Stiles watched them, the more he could see an energy and confidence radiating around them.

Their social circle began to steadily grow. Erica joined, of course, and made no secret of her interest in Stiles. Scott teased him a lot about that, and Stiles didn't yet know what to do about Erica. Part of him thought maybe it was time to give her a shot as a serious girlfriend, and maybe see if that helped him forget about someone he couldn't have.

Malia treated him just like anyone would expect of a mentor. She was efficient. Strict. Understanding. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would make anyone suspect what had passed between them — save for an occasional meeting of their eyes. And Stiles appreciated so much what she was doing. Two guardians in a relationship would distract each other from the ones they were supposed to protect. It was wrong. They couldn't risk Scott's life for their own wants. Stiles had once told Malia that his own feelings didn't matter. Scott came first.

He just hoped he could prove it.

"Was Kate completely evil when she turned?" Scott asked Stiles one of those days. They sat together, pretending to study, but Stiles was actually thinking of Malia. He was considering telling Scott about her, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to speak. "Just... something Kira told me about her parents. Do you think that all Vampires are immediately evil?"

Stiles didn't entirely know what to say. "I'm not sure anymore. Kate said a lot of things that got me thinking. But she certainly looked pretty evil when she bashed my head against the wall."

Scott nodded. " _'Better to want the magic and be sane than to have it and be a lunatic,'_ " he quoted a wise man or another. "There's no middle ground."

"No," Stiles agreed. "Not with this."

But he couldn't help but think... Maybe there was a middle ground. Maybe Kate's words hadn't been all that crazy. _One Vampire to save the half-breeds._ _It'll be worth it. Worth giving up life, magic, and everything else._

Maybe Peter Hale and Ken and Noshiku Yukimura hadn't become a Vampire simply because they were afraid of Gerard. Maybe like Malia, they had been making a sacrifice for the ones they loved. Gerard thought it was only because becoming a Vampire cut a person completely off from the royal line, and in doing that, Gerard wouldn't have to kill them for the crown.

But maybe there was much more to their choices.

Staring at Scott, Stiles felt a knot of worry coil within him. But just as fast as it came, it also disappeared.

Nah, he had nothing to worry about. They could do this, Scott and Stiles. They would do it together.

In a world where things died but didn't stay dead, only the power of the living could keep such things at bay. And there was no power like love. It could come in many forms; a impossible lover, an absent father, a friend who was like a brother, a friend who was in love with you, or the sacrifices you'd made for them. It didn't matter. As long as Scott had people who cared about him, he was protected from all evil.

The ties that bound them were too strong to ever be broken.

 **End of Act I**


	16. The Mahealani Massacre

Hey, pretty boys and girls. I'm back. Hope you enjoy this. #LotsOfLove

Just out of curiosity (nothing to do with the plot), but did you guys know that when possessed by an evil spirit, the victims complain of a metallic taste in their mouths, itchy eyes, dry throat, headaches, loss of appetite and backaches? Also, they end up isolating themselves, feeling anxious all the time, having negative thoughts and raging about pretty much anything...

Interesting, ain't it?

* * *

 **Act II**

 _"The Devil Within"_

The day started with Stiles falling off his bed.

The nightmare had been too real. Gerard Argent and the Akkadian Scorpion circling Scott. Stiles' inability to save his friend. Once more he'd hesitated. Once more he'd proved himself unworthy of protecting someone as important as Scott.

 _Hesitation leads to death._

Looking at the small mirror on the wall, Stiles barely recognized himself. The dark round marks around his eyes were unbelievable. But what should he expect? He hadn't been sleeping in days. The nightmares wouldn't let him.

A strong feeling took control and before Stiles realized what he was doing his fist hit the mirror breaking it. His image was now cut, repetitive, and even sadder.

When had that started? That lack of control? Maybe back when the psychic bond was formed. When Stiles opened his mind, gave up his own identity so he could save Scott from that car wreck that had killed the McCalls. That's when things started to go downhill. And inside Stiles now there was always a storm.

He didn't think his day could get any worse until he realized he was late for the most important event of his life. He got dressed and hurried off across campus to find Malia waiting beside a Honda Pilot.

"I know, I know," he said, seeing her face. "Sorry I'm late."

Malia stood there, looking as gorgeous as ever. But when she saw him, a line of worry appeared in her forehead. "Are you okay...? You look tired."

Stiles shrugged. "I'm just nervous, I guess."

"Is that why you haven't been eating?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she turned red as a pepper. "Not that I was watching you... I just walked right by you and..." she cleared her throat. "Never mind."

Stiles tried hard not to laugh. He didn't want to embarrass her further. But it was a wonder she had took the time to notice him, eating or otherwise. "Who else is going?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

Malia blushed even more. "Just you and me," she said with a shy smile.

Stiles' mood promptly shot up from miserable straight to ecstatic. Him and Malia. Alone. In a car. This might very well be worth a surprise test after all.

"How far away is it?" Silently, he begged for it to be a really long drive. Like, one that would take a week. And would involve them staying overnight in cheap hotels having hot nasty sex. Maybe they'd get stranded in a snowbank, and only body heat would keep them alive.

 _Yep, definitely worth it._

"Five hours."

"Oh."

A bit less than he'd hoped for. Still, five hours was better than nothing. And it didn't rule out the snowbank possibility, either.

Inside the car, Stiles stared ahead, trying not to think about how the smell of Malia's hair filled the car with a sweet scent. Instead, he tried to focus on the Qualifier.

It wasn't the kind of thing you could study for. You either passed it or you didn't. High-up guardians visited novices during their senior year and met individually to discuss students' commitment to being guardians. Character and dedication was definitely what mattered most. And if things didn't go as expected, the novices could be sentenced to another semester in school.

"Don't they usually come to the Academy?" he asked Malia. "I mean, this field trip is going to be awesome, but why are we going to them?"

A smile danced in her lips and he was sure she also thought the field trip would be awesome. "Actually, you're just going to a her, not a them." A light Turkish accent laced her words. Otherwise, Stiles was pretty sure she spoke English better than he did. "Since this is a special case and she's doing us the favor, we're the ones making the trip."

"Who is she?"

"Satomi Ito."

Stiles jerked his gaze from the road to Malia. "What?" he squeaked.

Satomi Ito was a legend. She was one of the greatest Vampire slayers in living guardian history and used to be the head of the Guardians Council — the group of people who assigned guardians to half-breeds and made decisions for all of them. She'd eventually retired and gone back to protecting one of the royal families, the Mahealanis. Even retired, Stiles knew she was still lethal.

Nervous no longer defined what he felt.

"Wasn't... wasn't there anyone else available?" he asked in a small voice.

Malia hid a smile. "You'll be fine, Stiles. Besides, if Satomi approves of you, that's a great recommendation to have on your record."

A metallic taste filled his mouth. Stiles bit his lip, suddenly wondering if he'd be able to meet Satomi Ito's standards. His grades were good, but things like running away and getting into fights at school might cast a shadow on how serious he was about his future career.

"You'll be fine," Malia said guessing his thoughts. "The good in your record outweighs the bad."

Stiles smiled a little and dared to peek at her. It was a mistake. She was so beautiful. With great restraint, he forced himself to start breathing again and look away. "Thanks," he said.

"Happy to help," she replied. Her voice was light and relaxed, which was rare for her. She was usually wound up tightly, ready for any attack. Probably she figured she was safe inside a Honda — or at least as safe as she could be around him. Stiles wasn't the only one who had trouble ignoring the romantic tension between them.

"You know what would really help?"

"Hmm?"

"If you turned off this crap music and put on something that came out after the Berlin Wall went down."

Malia laughed. "Do you even know when that happened?"

"You're such a nerd. Just change the song, will ya?"

Still smiling, she turned the radio dial. To a disco station.

"Hey! This isn't what I had in mind," he exclaimed.

"It's one or the other."

Stiles sighed. "You know what? Go back to the 1980's stuff."

She flipped the dial, and Stiles crossed his arms over his chest wishing someone would kill this radio. Suddenly, five hours didn't seem as short as he'd thought.

Satomi and the family she protected lived in a small town not far from Billings. Some magical families, like this one, opted for less populated towns, believing that if there were fewer people to notice you, then you were less likely to be noticed. Which wasn't quite true.

Malia and Stiles stopped for food at a twenty-four-hour diner along the way, and between that and stopping to buy gas, it was around noon when they arrived. Guess neither of them really wanted the trip to be over; they were enjoying each other's company so much.

The house was built in a rambler style, all one level with gray-stained wood siding and big bay windows — tinted to block sunlight, of course.

They both walked up to the house, following a river rock sidewalk that cut through the front yard. Stiles could see Malia sliding into her business mode, but her overall attitude was as cheery as his. They'd both taken a kind of guilty satisfaction in the pleasant car ride, where they didn't have to hide how much they liked being together.

Distracted, Stiles let his foot slip on the ice-covered sidewalk. "Haven't these people ever heard of salt?" He meant it jokingly, but Malia suddenly stopped walking. Stiles instantly came to a halt too. Her expression became tense and alert. She turned her head, eyes searching the broad, white plains surrounding them before settling back on the house.

Cautiously, Malia approached the front door, and Stiles followed. She stopped again, this time to study the door. It wasn't open, but it wasn't entirely shut either. When she touched the door's handle it jiggled a little, like it had been broken.

"Stiles, go back to the car."

"No way."

 _"Go."_

One word — but one filled with power. In that single syllable he was reminded of the seventeen year old girl he'd seen stake a Vampire. Stiles backed up, walking on the snow-covered lawn. Malia, with the gentlest of movements, pushed on the barely held door and disappeared inside.

Stiles counted to ten and then circled around the right side of the house, walking in much deeper snow. He glanced up at the sky. The light was bleak and watery, but it was there. _Noon._ The sun's highest point today. Vampires couldn't be out in sunlight. There was nothing to fear.

His foot suddenly hit something, and Stiles looked down. There, half-buried in the snow, was a silver stake. It had been driven into the ground. Stiles picked it up and brushed off the snow, frowning. What was a stake doing out here? Silver stakes were valuable. They were a guardian's most deadly weapon, capable of killing anything with a single strike through the heart. When they were forged, they were charmed with magic from each of the four elements.

He got to the large patio door; the glass had been broken. Carefully not to cut himself, Stiles went through the hole as the possible intrude must have done. His eyes adjusted from the sun to the dimness within. He was in a living room. It had all the ordinary items one might expect. Couches. TV. A rocking chair.

 _And a body._

It was a woman. She lay on her back in front of the TV, her dark hair spilling on the floor around her. Her wide eyes stared upward blankly, her face pale — too pale. The darkness across her skin was blood. Dried blood. Her throat had been ripped out.

Then Stiles took in the other body: a man on his side, only a couple feet away, dark blood staining the carpet around him. Another body was slumped beside the couch: small, child-size. Across the room was another. And another. There were bodies everywhere. _Bodies and blood._

Stiles rubbed his eyes.

The scale of the death around him suddenly registered, and Stiles' heart began pounding. _No, no!_ It wasn't possible. It was day. Bad things couldn't happen in daylight.

A hand came from behind him and closed over his mouth. Stiles started to struggle; then he smelled Malia's hair. "Why," she asked, "don't you ever listen? You'd be dead if they were still here."

Stiles couldn't answer, both because of the hand and his own shock. Malia removed her hand, but she stayed close behind him. Stiles didn't want to look anymore, but he seemed unable to drag his eyes away from the scene before him. Bodies everywhere. _Bodies and blood._

"It's daytime," he whispered. "Bad things don't happen in the day."

"Bad things can happen anytime," said Malia. "And this didn't happen during the day. This probably happened a couple of nights ago."

Stiles' stomach twisted. Two days. Two days to be dead, to have your existence snuffed out — without anyone in the world even knowing you were gone. His eyes fell on the first body he had noticed — the woman's.

"Satomi Ito," said Malia.

"She's dead," Stiles said, as though it wasn't perfectly obvious. "How can she be dead? How could a Vampire kill Satomi Ito?" It didn't seem possible. You couldn't kill a legend.

Malia didn't answer. Instead her hand moved down and closed around where Stiles' own hand held the stake. "Where did you get this?" she asked. Stiles let her take the stake.

"Outside. In the ground."

She held up the stake, studying its surface as it shone in the sunlight. "It broke the ward."

Still stunned, Stiles took a moment to process what she'd said. Then he got it. Wards were magic rings cast by half-breeds. Like the stakes, they were made using magic from all four of the elements. They required strong magic-users. The wards could block Vampires because magic was charged with life, and the Vampires had none.

The Mahealanis had had a ward around their house. It had been shattered when someone drove the stake through it. Their magic conflicted with each other; the stake had won.

"Vampires can't touch stakes," Stiles told her. He realized he was using a lot of _can't_ and _don't_ statements. It wasn't easy having your core beliefs challenged so violently. "And no one would do it for them."

"Someone did"

Their eyes met. "Half-breeds or humans don't help Vampires—" he stopped. There it was again. _Don't_. He was in denial.

The one thing they could count on in the fight against the Cold Ones was their limitations — sunlight, wards, stake magic, etc. They used their weaknesses against them. If they had others — humans or half-breeds — who would help them and weren't affected by those limitations...

Malia's face was stern.

"This changes everything, doesn't it?" Stiles asked.

"Yes," she confirmed. "It does."


	17. The Time Of Rage

Malia made one phone call, and a veritable SWAT team showed up. These guardians were essentially strangers and looked surprised to find two seventeen-years-old guardians alone in the middle of that scene, but none of them protested.

They headed inside where none of them touched anything, but they knelt by the bodies and studied the bloodstains and broken windows. Apparently, the Vampires had entered the house through more than just the front door and back patio.

The guardians spoke in brusque tones, displaying none of the disgust Stiles felt. They were like machines, like robots. One of them, the only woman in the group, crouched beside Satomi Ito. Stiles was intrigued since female guardians were so rare. He'd heard someone call her Carrie. Her blonde hair just barely touched her shoulders, which was common for guardian women.

Sadness flickered in her gray eyes as she studied the dead guardian's face. "Oh, Satomi," she sighed. "Never thought I'd see this day. She was my mentor."

Then her face had become all businesslike once more, as though the woman who'd trained her wasn't lying there in front of her. Stiles couldn't believe it. _Satomi was her mentor!_ How could she keep that kind of control? For half a heartbeat, he imagined seeing Malia dead on the floor instead. _No._ No way could he'd have stayed calm in her place. On the contrary, Stiles would have gone on a rampage. He would have screamed and kicked things. He would have hit anyone around.

Fortunately, he didn't believe anyone could actually take down Malia. She was invincible.

Of course... _Satomi Ito had been too._

"How could they do that?" he blurted out. Six sets of eyes turned to him. "How could they kill her?"

Carrie gave a small shrug, her face still composed. "The same way they kill everyone else. She's mortal, just like the rest of us."

"Yeah, but she's... you know, _Satomi Ito_."

"How about you tell us then?" challenged Carrie.

As they all watched him, Stiles suddenly realized he might be undergoing a test after all today. He swallowed, trying to figure out how the impossible could be possible.

"There were four points of entry, which means at least four Cold Ones. There were seven half-breeds... The family who lived here had been entertaining some other people, making the massacre that much larger. Three of the victims were children. And three guardians. But four Vampires couldn't have taken down that many. Six probably could if they went for the guardians first and caught them by surprise. The family would have been too panicked to fight back."

"And how did they catch the guardians by surprise?" Carrie prompted.

Stiles hesitated. Guardians, as a general rule, _didn't_ get caught by surprise. "Because they had a ward," he realized. "In a household with a ward, there are no guardians walking the yard. They stay inside because nothing can get inside the boarders."

Carrie praised him and the group continued their survey.

In the bathroom, there was yet another dead man, and his dried blood stood out in stark contrast against the white tile. In the mirror there was a writing done in blood.

 _Poor, poor Mahealani. So few left. One royal family nearly gone. Others to follow._

Carrie snorted in disgust and turned away from the mirror.

The Mahealanis were one of the smaller royal clans, it was true. But it was hardly like those who had been killed here were the last of them. There were others scattered; hidden. It wasn't a particularly huge family or very substantial, but there was definitely more Mahealanis than there were some other royals.

Like the Hales. The Yukimuras. Or the McCalls... Scott was the _only_ one left.

If the Cold Ones wanted to snuff out royal lines, there was no better way than to go after him.

Stiles rubbed his eyes, that metallic taste returning to his mouth. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to tear up every Vampire he could get his hands on. He could barely contain his anger. And when he finally got into the car to ride back to Beacon Hills Academy with Malia, Stiles slammed the door so hard that it was a wonder it didn't fall off.

"What's wrong?" asked Malia.

"Are you serious?" he exclaimed, incredulous. "How can you ask that? You were there. You saw that."

"Yes, I did," she agreed. "But I'm not taking it out on the car."

With his throat dry, Stiles said, "I just... How can they do that? Everywhere I go I get people like Kira, or Kate, or Peter Hale, trying to convince me that the Vampires aren't as bad as we think. And then this happens. They're absolutely evil! They are terrible. They have no humanity left in them. It's not possible that they do, if they are capable of things like this! I wish I'd been there, you know? I would have ripped their throats out!"

Malia waited for him to finish with all the patience in the world. Her face remained calm, but she was clearly astonished at his outburst. "You really think that's true?" she asked him softly. "You think you could have done better than Satomi Ito? Stiles, you saw that."

"I could've—"

"What? How would you have handled it? Like you did with Kate?"

Stiles faltered. His head began to ache. Suddenly, he felt stupid. He'd seen what Vampires could do. Him running in impetuously and trying to save the day would have only resulted in another quick death.

He apologized while massaging his temples. He needed to control that rage, that unrecognizable will to destroy everything. He'd always had a short temper and often acted impulsively, but it was getting too intense and ugly even for him.

"It's been a long day," said Malia. "For all of us."

Just to please him, she let him drive back. When they got to the Academy around midnight, everyone knew about the massacre. Stiles didn't care; or pretended not to. He wanted to see Scott, and the bond told him where he was.

Slipping through the library's electronic gate, Stiles immediately headed for one of the back corners. Sure enough, he found Scott sitting there on the floor, leaning against a bookcase.

"Hey," he said, looking up from an open book propped up on one knee. His girlfriend, Kira, lay on the floor near him, her head propped up on his other knee.

"You heard," Stiles accused, sitting down cross-legged.

Scott smile slipped, and the feelings of unease within him intensified. "It's awful," he said. "They're saying... they're saying there were six or seven Vampires. And that they had help breaking the wards."

Stiles leaned his head back against a shelf. "It's true."

"Really?" asked Kira. "I figured that was just a bunch of hyped-up paranoia."

"No. I... I was there."

Scott's eyes widened, shock coursing into him. Even Kira looked grim. "You're joking," she said, voice uncertain.

"I thought you were taking your Qualifier..." Scott's words trailed off.

"I was supposed to," said Stiles. "It was just a wrong-place-and-wrong-time kind of thing. The guardian who was going to give me the test lived there. Malia and I walked in, and..."

"Are you okay?" Scott asked softly.

"Fine," Stiles lied, teeth clenched.

Reading Scott's mind, Stiles felt him desperately grope for a new topic. "They say this is going to mess up all of the holiday visits," Scott told him after several more moments. "Kira's uncle is going to visit, but most people don't want to travel, and they want their kids to stay here where it's safe. They're terrified this group of Vampires is on the move."

Usually, students went home to visit their parents or parents came to stay on campus and visit their children.

"This is going to keep a lot of families separated," Stiles murmured.

"And mess up a lot of royal get-togethers," said Kira. Her brief seriousness had vanished; her snide air was back. "You know how they are this time of year - always competing with each other to throw the biggest parties. They won't know what to do with themselves."

"You guys should try solving your problems like we do," commented Stiles. "A fistfight here and there might do you royals some good."

Both Scott and Kira laughed at this. Kira glanced up at Scott with a sly smile. "What do you think? I bet I could take you if we went one on one."

"You wish," he teased. His troubled feelings lightened.

"I do, actually," she said, holding his gaze.

There was an intensely sensual note to her voice that made Scott's heart race. Jealousy shot through Stiles. "Ugg," he said getting up. "Stop or I might vomit."

Scott blinked and dragged his eyes away from Kira, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Sorry," he murmured. A pink flush spread over his cheeks. "You don't have to go..."

"No, it's fine. I'm exhausted," he assured him. Kira didn't look too broken up about seeing him leave. "I'll catch you tomorrow."

"Hey, Stiles? Are you... are you sure you're okay, man? After everything that happened?" Scott's concern was so strong and deep that it made Stiles's chest ache. He didn't want Scott worrying about him. It was Stiles' job to keep him safe. His responsibility.

Stiles flashed him a saucy grin. "I'm fine. Nothing to worry about except you guys tearing each other's clothes before I get a chance to leave."

"Then you better go now," said Kira dryly.

And Stiles did.

As soon as his back was to them, his smile vanished. He walked back to his dorm with a heavy heart, hoping he wouldn't dream about the Mahealanis tonight.

* * *

"Smile, Stiles," a singsong voice called as he headed for his morning practice the next day. Stiles glanced behind him and grinned — Erica.

"That was twelve years ago," he said, continuing on toward the gym.

"Nearly," she said. "I missed your smiling face yesterday. Where were you?"

Apparently, his presence at the Mahealani house still wasn't widely known. "Had a training thing with Malia."

"God," muttered Erica rolling her eyes. "That bitch is always working you. Doesn't she realize she's depriving us of your wit and charm?"

"Smiling face? Wit and charm? You're laying it on a little thick this morning, aren't you? If you need money, I'll give you. No need to beg."

Erica giggled. "Hey, I'm just telling it like it is. Really, you're lucky to have someone as suave and brilliant as me paying this much attention to you."

Stiles kept grinning. Erica was a huge flirt; especially towards him. But Stiles knew her feelings toward him were more than just friendly, which made him uneasy. He still hadn't decided how he felt about her. They were two clowns with a terrible sense of humor who considered themselves way funnier than they actually were. But dating someone was going to be kind of difficult when Stiles still kept thinking about the time he had Malia Tate against that corridor wall.

"Suave and brilliant, huh?" he shook his head. "I don't think you pay nearly as much attention to me as you do your ego. Someone needs to knock it down a little."

"Oh yeah?" she asked. "Well, you can try your best on the slopes."

Stiles stopped walking. "The what?"

"The slopes." She tilted her head. "You know, the ski trip."

"What ski trip?"

"Where have you been this morning?"

"In bed! Now walk me through it, will ya?"

Erica smiled in that wicked way of hers. According to her, since everyone was afraid to have their kids come home for Christmas, they had decided to go to this huge ski lodge in Idaho that was exclusively used by royals. The people who own it were opening it up for the Academy students and their families — and actually anyone else who wanted to go. With everyone in one spot, they were going to have a ton of guardians to protect the place, so it'd be completely safe.

"We're going to live like royalty, Stiles. At least for a week or so. We take off the day after Christmas."

Stiles was both excited and stunned. It really was a brilliant idea, one that let families reunite safely. And what a reunion spot! A royal ski lodge. He'd be living it up in five-star accommodations. Lobster dinners. Massages. Sexy ski instructors...

But then he realized something else.

"We're going to this fancy place because a bunch of innocent people are dead."

"What a way to bring me down." Erica turned serious. "What can I say? We're alive, Stiles. We can't stop living because other people are dead. And we have to make sure more people don't die. That's why this place is such a great idea. It's safe." Then her cat-like eyes turned stormy. "God, I can't wait until we're out of there in the field. After hearing about what happened, I just want to go tear apart some Vamps. I wish we could go now, you know? There's no reason. They could use the extra help. And what else can we possibly learn?"

The fierceness in her voice reminded Stiles of his own outburst yesterday.

"I don't know." Stiles stared down at the floor, avoiding her eyes. "I don't want Vampires out there, attacking people either. And I want to stop them in theory... but, well, we aren't even close to being ready. I've seen what they can do. Rushing in isn't the answer." Good grief. He sounded so logical and cautious. _He sounded like Malia!_ That gave him the heebie-jeebies."Well, it doesn't matter. And we are going to have fun."

Erica's moods were quick to change. "Yup. And you'd better try to remember how to ski, because I'm calling you out on knocking down my ego out there."

Stiles smiled again. "I'm not sure how I feel about making a girl cry."

Erica opened her mouth, no doubt to deliver some smartass reply, and then caught sight of something behind him she didn't seem to approve of. Stiles glanced over and saw Malia waiting by the gym door.

Erica grimaced, "How about you make that girl cry?"


	18. The True Guardian

Malia had set up practice dummies arranged on the far wall in one of the training rooms. No straw-stuffed burlap bags here. There were men and women, wearing ordinary clothes, with rubbery skin and different hair and eye colors. Stiles had worked with them before, but not while holding what Malia held: _a silver stake._

"Sweet," he breathed.

It had a hand grip at the bottom, almost like a hilt without the little side flourishes. But rather than a flat blade, the stake had a thick, rounded body that narrowed to a point, kind of like an ice pick. The entire thing was a little shorter than his forearm.

Malia leaned casually against the wall, in an easy stance she always pulled off remarkably well. With one hand, she tossed the stake into the air. It spun around in a cartwheel a couple of times and then came down. She caught it hilt first.

"Please tell me I get to learn how to do that today," he said.

Amusement flashed in the dark depths of her eyes. She had a hard time keeping a straight face around Stiles sometimes.

"You'll be lucky if I let you hold it today," she said.

Stiles crossed his arms expectantly. He was ready for anything. "Right. You want me to tell you how they work and why I should always be cautious around them," he announced.

Malia stared at him in astonishment.

"Come on," he laughed. "You don't think I know how you work by now? We've been doing this for almost three months. You always make me talk safety and responsibility before I can do anything fun."

"I see," she said. "Well, I guess you've got it all figured out. By all means, go on with the lesson. I'll just wait over here until you need me again."

Stiles waited, but she wasn't kidding. With a shrug, he launched into what he knew.

"Silver always has powerful effects on any magical creature — it can help or hurt them if you put enough power into it. These stakes are really hard-core because it takes the four elements of nature to make them. So these things are supercharged and are about the only non-decapitating weapon that can do damage to a Vampire — but to kill them, it has to be through the heart."

"Will they hurt _you?_ "

Stiles shook his head. "No. I mean, well, yeah, if you drive one through my heart it will, but it won't hurt me like it would a half-breed. Scratch one of them with this, and it'll hit them pretty hard. You can kill anything with these babies."

He kept going. Malia would occasionally give a nod or ask a clarifying question. As the time ticked down, Stiles got impatient. He wanted her to congratulate him, possibly with a kiss, and let him start hacking up the dummies. Instead, she waited until almost ten minutes before the end of their session before leading him over to one of the dummies.

"Where would you stake him?"

"In the heart," he replied irritably. "I already told you that like a hundred times. Can I try it now?"

"Where's the heart, Stiles?"

Stiles gave her an are-you-serious look. With overdramatic emphasis, he pointed to the left side of the dummy's chest.

Malia tried to hide a smile. "That's not where the heart is," she told him.

"Sure it is," he replied. "People put their hands over their hearts when they sing the national anthem." Malia continued to stare at him expectantly. Stiles turned back to the dummy and studied it. Then he tapped the center of the dummy's chest. "Is it here?"

She arched an eyebrow. "I don't know. Is it?"

"That's what I'm asking you!"

"You shouldn't have to ask me. Don't you take physiology? Anatomy? Anything?"

"On junior year, yeah. Scott and I were on 'vacation', remember?" Stiles pointed to the stake. "Can I please touch it?"

"First, I want you to tell me where the heart is the next time we meet. Exactly where. And I want to know what's in the way of it too."

Stiles gave her his fiercest glare, which — judging from her expression — must not have been that fierce. He headed off to first period, a combat class, in a bad mood. He didn't like looking incompetent in front of her, and he'd really, really wanted to use one of those stakes. So in class he took out his annoyance on anyone he could punch or kick. By the end of class, no one wanted to spar with him.

Afterward, Erica found him once again. "Oh, man," she said, studying his face. "Who pissed you off?" Stiles immediately launched into his tale of silver stake and heart woes. To his annoyance, Erica laughed. "How do you not know where the heart is? Especially considering how many of them you've broken?"

Stiles gave her the same ferocious look he'd given Malia. This time, it worked.

Erica's face paled. "Tate is a sick, evil bitch who should be thrown into a pit of rabid vipers for the great offense she committed against you this morning."

"Thank you." Stiles said primly. "Although Canadian geese might be worse than vipers."

She gave him a sidelong look. "Canadian geese are deadlier than vipers?"

"You ever tried to feed those little bastards?" he asked, attempting seriousness and failing. "They're vicious. You get thrown to vipers, you die quickly. But the geese? That'll go on for days. More suffering."

"Wow. I don't know whether I should be impressed or frightened that you've thought about all this," Erica remarked. "Usually, I'm the creative one."

"I never took you for the creative type," he pointed out.

Erica's expression was still light and joking, but there was a suggestive note in her voice when she spoke again. "Stiles, when I'm around you, I think of all sorts of creative things to do."

Stiles stared at her in surprise. With that serious, smoky look in her cat-like eyes, she looked super sexy.

"Oh, look at that," she teased. "Stilinski gets rendered speechless. Reyes 1, Stilinski _Nada_."

After that, they stepped into the classroom. This was a class on bodyguard theory. It was a nice break from all the physical exertion. Today, there were three guardians standing at the front who weren't from the school's regiment. Holiday visitors. Parents.

One of the guests was a tall guy who looked like he was about a hundred years old but could still kick major ass. The other guy had deeply tanned skin and was built well enough that a few of the girls in class looked ready to swoon. Now, the last one was pale, with short light hair and small fair eyes.

Stiles was taken by a Tsunami of resentment. He rubbed his eyes. The anger was boiling inside of him.

That man was no Satomi Ito, but he did have a pretty stellar reputation in the guardian world. Stiles hadn't seen him in years because he was always off on some insane mission. Every time the guy tried to visit, Stiles would disappear and avoid him like the plague. Not that it mattered... Dad wasn't around that much. There was always a next mission.

Yet, here he was. In Beacon Hills. Right in front of Stiles. And he hadn't write to inform of his coming.

Stiles slid into his chair, his throat drying up.

Adrian Harris introduced the guests and explained that they were going to share real-life experiences with the class. The class tensed with excitement. Hearing stories was a hell of a lot more interesting than analyzing theory from a textbook or just generally listening to Harris.

The old guy went first. He launched into his story, and Stiles found himself getting hooked in. It described a time when the youngest son of the family he guarded had wandered off in a public place that Vampires were lurking in.

"The sun was about to set. There were only two of us, and we had to make a snap decision on how to proceed."

Stiles leaned forward, elbows propped up on his desk, and decided that if he was in that situation, he'd have the near guardian take the rest of the family to a secure location while the other guardian searched for the boy.

"We had the family stay inside a restaurant with my partner while I swept the rest of the area," continued the old guardian. Stiles felt smug over having made the correct call. The story ended happily, with a found boy and no Vampire encounters.

The second guy's anecdote talked about how he'd gotten the drop on a Vampire stalking some half-breeds.

"I wasn't even on duty," he said. "I was visiting a friend and the family he guarded. As I was leaving their apartment, I saw a Vampire lurking in the shadows. He never expected a guardian to be out there. I circled the block, came up behind him, and..." The man made a staking motion and then mimic twisting the stake into the Vampire's heart.

And then it was Stiles' dad's turn.

A scowl spread over Stiles' face before his dad had even said a word. If Stiles didn't believe him incapable of having the imagination for it, he would have thought the guy was lying: his story was an epic tale.

His dad talked about how his charge and his wife had attended a royal ball. Several Vampires had been lying in wait. He discovered one, promptly staked it, and then alerted the other guardians present. With their help, he hunted down the other Vampires lurking around and performed most of the kills himself.

"It wasn't easy." From anyone else that statement would have sounded like bragging. Not Stiles' dad though. There was a briskness to the way he spoke, an efficient way of stating facts that left no room for flourishes. "The largest number of Vampires working together before the Mahealani massacre. Difference was, they weren't acting as group. It was every man for himself, which made them easier targets. We had to dispatch them as quickly and quietly as possible, so as not to alert the others. Now, if you have the element of surprise, the best way to take the Cold Ones is to come around from behind, break their necks, and then stake them. Breaking their necks won't kill them, of course, but it stuns them and allows you to do the staking before they can make any noise. The most difficult part is actually sneaking up on them."

Stiles' classmates' faces shone with wonder.

His dad continued with the story. When he and the other guardians had killed the remaining Vampires, they'd discovered two Fairies had been taken from the party. Such an act wasn't uncommon for Vampires; sometimes they wanted to save the half-breeds for a later "snack".

"Naturally, we couldn't leave the Fairies in Vampires clutches," Stiles' dad said. "We tracked them to their hideout and found several of them living together. You must know their evil and selfish nature makes them turn on each other as easily as they do their victims. Organizing for attacks is rare and not likely to happen. Fortunately, we managed to free the two captive Fairies — only to discover that more half-breeds were being held prisoner. We couldn't send the Fairies back by themselves, though, so the guardians who were with me escorted them out and left it to me to get the others."

 _Yes, of course,_ Stiles thought. His dad bravely went in alone to save the world.

Along the way, he got captured but managed to escape and rescue the prisoners. In one night he had killed Vampires in all three possible ways: staking, decapitation, and setting them on fire.

Mouths dropped. Eyes bugged. Glancing around, Stiles appeared to be the only one unimpressed by his dad's harrowing tale.

Finally, they were permitted to ask questions. As expected, everyone only wanted to ask Stiles' dad things. What was the easiest way to kill a Vampire? How did he manage to escape? Wasn't he afraid at all? Didn't he have a painful, awful looking scar to show them?

Seeing the awe on everyone's faces enraged him. Feeling that metallic taste in his mouth, Stiles raised his hand.


	19. The Mouthpiece

It took his dad a while to notice and call on him. He seemed mildly astonished to find Stiles in class. He obviously hadn't seen Stiles until now, which just enraged Stiles further.

"So, Guardian Stilinski," Stiles began pompously. "I just wanted to know why didn't you guys just secure the place to begin with?"

His dad frowned. "What do you mean?"

Stiles slouched back in his desk trying to look casual and uninterested. "I don't know. It seems to me like you guys messed up. Why didn't you scope out the place and make sure it was clear of Vampires in the first place? Seems like you could have saved yourself a lot of trouble."

All eyes in the room turned toward Stiles. His dad was momentarily at a loss for words.

"If we hadn't gone through all that 'trouble,' there'd be seven more Cold Ones walking the world, attacking innocent people and doing other unspeakable things. Further more, the half-breeds who'd been captured would be dead or turned by now."

"Yeah, yeah," dismissed Stiles. "I get how you guys saved the day and all that, but I'm going back to the principles here. I mean, this is a theory class. So I just want to figure out what went wrong in the beginning."

Stiles had to admit his dad had a hell of a lot more self-control than he did: were their situations reversed, Stiles would've already smacked himself. But his father's face stayed perfectly calm, and a small tightness in the set of his lips was the only sign that Stiles was pissing him off.

"It's not that simple," he replied. "The venue had an extremely complex layout. It's believed the Vampires came in after the festivities had started — or that there might have been passages and hidden rooms we hadn't been aware of."

"So what you're saying is that you guys either failed to detect them during your first sweep, or they broke through the 'security' you set up during the party. _Tsk tsk._ Seems like someone messed up either way."

The tightness in his dad's lips increased, and his voice grew frosty. "We did the best we could with an unusual situation. I can see how someone at your level might not be able to grasp the intricacies of what I'm describing, but once you've actually learned enough to go beyond theory, you'll see how different it is when you're actually out there and lives are in your hands."

"No doubt," Stiles agreed. "Who am I to question your methods? I mean, whatever gets you more marks, right?"

 _"Stilinski,"_ Harris shouted, his deep voice rumbled through the room. "Please, get the hell out of my classroom."

Stiles crossed the short distance to the door and refused to make eye contact with his dad as he passed. However, the man followed him to the hallway. "I see your manners haven't improved."

"Hi, dad! Good to see you," Stiles feigned excitement. "I'm surprised you even recognized me. In fact, I didn't even think you remembered me, seeing as how you never bothered to let me know you were on campus."

"I couldn't neglect my duty to come coddle you."

"Coddle?" Stiles repeated, his hand starting to shake. "You never coddled me in this life. It's astonishing you even know the word."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, Stiles. From what I hear, you don't really know what 'duty' is."

"I know exactly what it is," he retorted. "Better than most people."

"Oh really? Where were you for the last two years?"

"Where were you for the last five?" he demanded. Some people stopped to stare. Stiles rubbed his eyes and tried to lower his voice. "Would you have known I was gone if someone hadn't told you?"

"Don't turn this back on me. I have to work, Stiles. I'm a guardian. The safety of a half-breed depends solely of me. If I was away it was because I had to be. Now you were away so you could go parting and stay up late."

Stiles felt that strange fury consuming him. "You have no idea why I left. And you have no right to make assumptions—"

"I've read reports about what happened. You had reason for concern, I agree, but you acted incorrectly." His words were formal and crisp: they weren't the words of a father, they were the words of a guardian. "You should have gone to others for help."

"There was no one I could go to. Besides, we've been learning that we're supposed to think independently."

"Yes," his dad replied. "Emphasis on _learning_. Something you missed out on for two years. You're hardly in a position to lecture me about guardian protocol."

"Yeah?" Stiles was feeling that childish need to defend himself. "Well, that's not what my teachers think. Even after missing all that time, I've still caught up with everyone else in my class."

His dad didn't answer right away. "Imagine if you hadn't left... you would have surpassed them." And turning military-style, he walked back into Harris' classroom.

Stiles spent the rest of the day angry and annoyed. He skipped lunch and went to the library to read a book about physiology and anatomy. When it was time for his after-school training with Malia, he practically ran up to the practice dummy. With a curled fist, he slapped its chest, very slightly to the left but mostly in the center.

"There," he told her. "The heart is there, and the sternum and ribs are in the way."

"And how do you get through the sternum and the ribs?" she asked.

Stiles sighed. Of course his recompense would be more questions. They spent a large part of the practice going over that, then Malia demonstrated several techniques that would yield the quickest kill. Every movement she made was both graceful and deadly. She made it look effortless, but Stiles knew better.

When she suddenly extended her hand and offered the stake to him, Stiles didn't understand at first.

"You're giving it to me?"

"I can't believe you're holding back. I figured you'd have taken it and run by now."

"Aren't you always teaching me to hold back?" he asked.

"Not on everything."

"But on some things." He heard the double meaning in his own voice and wondered where it had come from. He'd accepted a while ago that there were too many reasons for him to not even think about her romantically anymore.

"Yes," she said. "It's like everything else in the universe. Balance. Know which things to run forward with — and know which to leave alone." She placed a heavy emphasis on that last statement.

Their eyes met briefly, and Stiles felt electricity race through him. She did know what he was talking about. And like always, she was ignoring it. With sigh, Stiles pushed his feelings for her out of his head.

Hesitantly, almost reverentially, he reached out and curled his fingers around the hilt of the stake. He lifted it from her hand and brought it to himself, taking a long time to study it and get used to its weight.

"What should I do first?"

Malia covered basics first, honing the way to hold and move with a stake. Later on, she finally let him attack one of the dummies. "Slide up through the ribs," she explained, watching him try to fit the stake's point through a gap in the bones. When practice ended, she took the stake back and praised him: "That was good."

Stiles felt a delighted grin creep over his face as they started leaving the practice room. "Do you think I can stab my dad with it?"

"Violence isn't the answer to your problems," she said sagely.

"He's the one with the problem."

"You two are just... too much alike, that's all."

Stiles stopped walking. "I'm nothing like him!" Malia had kind of an amused expression, but there was something hard in her eyes too. Stiles looked away from that knowing gaze. "And how would you know anyway? D-do you know him?" The horrific possibility almost made him choke.

"Yeah, I know him," she revealed.

"How?" Stiles almost shouted.

"He was my dad's partner."

Stiles' jaw fell. _His dad and her dad?_ Oh, boy. That was way too much.

"He went to Nazilli to tell us," she continued with tired eyes. "Said that if someday we needed anything, all we had to do was ask him. Next day, I sent him a letter asking him to get me to an Academy. He brought me here."

Stiles' shock grew with every word. His dad knew Malia? He'd brought her to Beacon Hills? This connection between them was always there and she'd never said anything? Not before he'd left? Not after he'd come back?

"The formal complaint of having Matt in my room was sent to him," she kept going, almost unaware. "It was his turn to write me." Then she seemed to realize what she was saying and closed herself up.

"What did he say?" Stiles asked wondering if his dad was a jerk to everybody. By the look in her eyes, he was worse to children that weren't his.

"Stiles..." Malia hesitated. "It isn't his fault. He did nothing other guardians haven't done. As far as I know, he came to see you a couple of times and you refused. That's more than other dads do. I think your problem is that he works. Your problem is that he's respected. And respect you simply refuse to give."

"You think I'm jealous?"

"Are you?" she asked. "If so, what are you jealous of?"

Stiles glanced back at Malia. Deep, deep down, he knew his dad hadn't done anything wrong. But Stiles had grown up seeing Scott and Mr. McCall getting along so nicely. So maybe his problem was, in fact, jealousy. And truth be told, Stiles didn't want to hear about his dad's adventures. He didn't like being stuck in Beacon Hills while the guy could be out saving the world.

"I don't know," he answered. "Maybe I am jealous of his reputation. Of his liberty. Maybe I'm jealous because he's put more time into his reputation than into me. I don't know."

"You don't think what he does is great?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. It just sounded like such a... I don't know... like he was bragging. Like he did it for the glory." Stiles grimaced. "For the marks."

"You really think marks are worth something?" Malia seemed offended. "It's not a celebration, Stiles. When you get yours, you'll see. It's a reminder of what you lost and of what you killed. Just like my Mark of Cain. It's horrible. Marks aren't badges of honor."

Stiles moved awkwardly, not knowing how to go on. "That's not what I—"

"Come with me," she said without giving him a chance to argue.


	20. The Out-of-Line

Malia led Stiles out of the boundaries of the campus and into the surrounding woods. They walked quietly for a while, their feet crunching through thick, unbroken snow. Soon, he discerned a small cabin, made out of logs and everything.

"Old watch-post," she explained. "Guardians used to live on the edge of campus and keep watch."

"Why don't they anymore?"

"We don't have enough guardians to staff it."

Malia and Stiles rounded the corner of the building; a small frozen pond lay there, and Kira and Scott were ice skating on it. A man was with them.

Scott grinned when he saw his friend. "Stiles!"

Kira glanced over, and Stiles got the distinct impression she felt he was intruding on their romantic moment.

"Revealing our hiding spot, Lia?" asked the man turning around.

Stiles wondered who he was talking to, until Malia answer, "It's impossible to keep Stiles away from places he shouldn't be. He always finds them eventually."

The man grinned and approached and Stiles suddenly saw his face full-on. It took every ounce of his already dubiously held self-control not to react. His face had large green eyes, but across his left cheek, marring what would have otherwise been smooth white skin were raised, purplish scars. Their shape and formation looked very much like someone had bitten into and torn out part of his cheek.

Stiles swallowed. He suddenly knew who that was; Kira's other uncle. When her parents had turned, he had fended them off, kept them away from her. He'd provided enough of a distraction until the guardians showed up, but it seemed he hadn't walked away without damage.

"Derek Hale," he introduced himself even though it was unnecessary. "I've heard a lot about you, Stiles." Stiles gave Kira a dangerous look, and Derek laughed. "Don't worry. All good things."

"No, it wasn't," Stiles countered seeing Kira smile. "What are you guys doing out here?"

"I wanted to spend some time with these two," said Derek. "But I don't really like hanging around the school itself. They aren't always hospitable..."

"Because of your family history?"

Derek shrugged. "That's the way it is." He rubbed his hands together. "But let's not stand out here, not when we can build a fire inside."

The cabin was pretty bare, covered in layers of dust and dirt. It consisted of only one room. There was a narrow bed with no covers in the corner. There was a fireplace around which the five of them sat down, and Derek produced a bag of marshmallows that they cooked over the flames.

Scott and Kira went on talking to each other in that easy, comfortable way they always had. Derek and Malia also talked in a familiar and light way which seemed suspicious to Stiles. They obviously knew each other. Stiles had actually never seen Malia so animated before.

"How do you two know each other?" he asked.

Malia and Derek exchanged an uncomfortable look. "You knew Matt Daehler?" Derek asked casually. Glancing at Malia, Stiles agreed. "He was raised by my parents. You know, like you were raised with Scott. He was supposed to be my guardian..." Surprisingly, Derek laughed out loud. "He was really funny. A total geek. He could make anyone laugh. Hell, he could make Lia laugh." And he shoved Malia playfully. "Remember that time you were in the bathroom, and he was waiting by the door to scare you?"

Malia smiled dreamily.

"You broke his nose, remember? Poor thing. Never play tricks when girls are stronger than you, right?" Derek kept telling funny stories about Matt until the topic went away.

"So are you coming on the ski trip?" Stiles asked him.

Derek nodded. "I haven't been skiing in ages. No time. Been saving all my vacation for this."

"Vacation? You have a job? What do you do?" That was unusual. Most half-breeds worked, true, but not the royal ones. Royalty had enough money to survive a hundred years without work.

"I teach personal defense."

Stiles stared at him in astonishment. A _royal half-breed_ that knew how to fight. Also unusual.

"What do you think, Stiles?" Kira seemed highly amused by his surprise. "Think you could take him?"

Derek crooked him a grin. "Probably. I've seen what you guys can do. Especially now, with Malia teaching him. This is just a hobby I picked up."

Malia chuckled. "You're being modest. You could teach half the classes around here."

"Not likely," he argued. "It'd be pretty embarrassing to be beaten up by a bunch of teenagers."

"I don't think that'd happen," she said. "I seem to remember you doing some damage to Donovan Donati."

"Punching him in the face was just something I'd dream about doing for years."

"You and the rest of the world."

They both laughed until Stiles decided to butt in again. "Did you start learning to fight before or after that happened to your face?"

"Stiles!" hissed Scott slapping the back of Stiles' head.

 _"Ouch!"_

But Derek didn't seem upset. He regarded Stiles with a level, thoughtful look. "After," he said. "How much do you know?"

"The basics."

Derek slowly chewed on a marshmallow. "I knew... I knew what Noshiko and Ken had become, but that still didn't prepare me. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. I think if I had to live through it again, I still wouldn't be ready. But after that night, I looked at myself and realized how defenseless I was. I'd spent my whole life expecting guardians to protect me and take care of me."

"That's our duty," said Stiles.

"Maybe so. But we can't always count on someone. And that's not to say the guardians aren't capable. Like I said, you could probably take me in a fight. But we should also help when possible."

Stiles found that unlikely. Half-breeds weren't raised for combat. Most of them froze before threats. Not to mention their nature, their beliefs, were in favor of peace and strongly against the use of violence.

"And they — Noshiko and Ken — cut down our two guardians before we realized what had happened. I stalled them, but just barely. If the others hadn't shown up, I'd be dead. I decided that I didn't want to die that way, not without putting up a real fight and doing everything I could to protect myself and those I love. So I learned all sorts of self-defense. And after a while, I didn't really, uh, fit in so well with the peaceful society around here."

Silence fell. Derek faced the wall. He seemed to be going through that night in his head.

"It's a weird story, I admit," he continued, his voice now a whisper. "He was my brother. We grew up together. And a lot of nights I wonder if I was right. Was he really going to kill me? He only did this to my face after I attacked him in my Werewolf form. Noshiko begged me to let her take Kira. She swore she was trying to keep her daughter safe. She kept saying that the _Estate of Moksha_ — or something like that — wasn't so bad, wasn't primitive, that it allowed them some control. I don't know what she meant. Until today, I don't know what parts of what they said was true."

There it was again... someone else who had doubts about the nature of Vampires. Stiles couldn't understand how Derek could think like that having to carry that bite on his face.

"And... And then there was Peter," continued Derek. "I saw him before he turned. He kept telling me Gerard Argent was trying to kill us. That he was coming for us. I didn't believe him. He sounded so crazy. He looked insane. Next day he was gone. And all I felt was resentment and betrayal and disgust. Today I think differently. Maybe I could've stopped him. Maybe I could've helped. But... some part of me still can't forgive them." Derek glanced at Malia. "Did you ever forgave Matt?"

Malia turned white, lifeless. She shook her head almost imperceptibly.

"Yeah, we can't. Us, who are left behind, to mend for ourselves, with no explanation whatsoever of what drove them to this. With no apologies. We will never understand." Derek nudged Malia. "Okay, no sad faces, Lia. It's Christmas. Speaking of which, wanna go with me to Missoula? I'll need you to drive for me, or I might fall asleep on the road."

Stiles had the weirdest feeling Derek was asking Malia out. "Can't one of your guardians drive for you?" he asked him.

Derek shook his head. "I don't have any."

"Don't have any—" Stiles frowned. "You don't have any guardians?"

"Nope."

"But that's not possible! You're royal. You should have at least one. Two, really."

"The Hales and the Yukimuras aren't exactly first in line when guardians get assigned," said Kira bitterly.

"Which is to be expected, what with your numbers decreasing every day," said Derek.

"But that's not fair," said Stiles. "They can't punish you for something you didn't do! They're leaving you defenseless. You can't go out there by yourself!"

"I'm not defenseless," laughed Derek. "I can take care of myself."

Malia glanced at him. "I'll go with you."

Derek smiled brightly. "Great."

* * *

Stiles was feeling pretty good when he headed to his before-school practice the next day. But when he stuck his head inside the practice room, he found it empty. His mood went down.

"She's not here."

Stiles yelped. Turning around, he looked straight into his dad's narrowed eyes. "What are you doing here? Where's Malia?"

" _Guardian Tate_ ," his father corrected, "is in bed. She just got back from Missoula and needed to rest."

 _Goddamn you, Derek Hale,_ Stiles thought.

"Well," he said hastily. "I guess that means practice is canceled—"

"Be quiet and put these on." His dad handed him some training mitts. They were similar to boxing gloves but not as thick and bulky.

Stiles shoved his hands into the mitts and followed his dad into the fighting ring. "What are we doing?" he asked.

His dad turned toward him and adopted an attack stance. Stiles quickly mirrored it. "Basic offensive and defensive parrying. Use the red lines." He leapt toward Stiles. Stiles dodged — just barely — and tripped over his own feet in the process. Hastily, he righted himself. "So," his dad said in a voice that almost sounded sarcastic, "as you seem so keen on reminding me, I haven't seen you in five years. I have no idea what you can do."

He moved on Stiles again, and again Stiles just barely kept within the lines in escaping him. That quickly became the pattern. His dad never really gave him the chance to go on the offensive and Stiles had to acknowledge that the old man was good. _Really_ good.

"So, what?" Stiles asked. "This is your way of making up for paternal negligence?"

"This is my way of making you get rid of that chip on your shoulder. You've had nothing but attitude for me since I arrived. You want to fight, Stiles?" His fist shot out and connected with Stiles' arm. "Then we'll fight. Point."

"I don't want to fight," said Stiles ignoring the pain in his arm. "I've just been trying to talk to you."

"Mouthing off to me in class isn't what I'd really call talking. Point."

"I have a unique style of communication, that's all!"

"You have a petty teenage delusion that you've somehow been wronged for the last seventeen years." His foot hit Stiles' thigh. "Point. When in reality, you've been treated no differently than any other child. Better, actually. I could have sent you off to live in a peaceful community with my cousins where you'd have no chance at this."

"They're not so bad there, okay?"

"I know," his dad growled. "But reputation is everything, Stiles. They brought this on themselves." Stiles dodged his strike. "They too had a duty to the half-breeds. Instead, they chose to satisfy their own desires and be a family."

"They're raising their children," Stiles grunted. "Something you'd know nothing about. Besides, there's nothing wrong with wanting somethings for yourself. You sure did. When you met my mother. Or I wouldn't be here."

His dad's face turned hard. "That," he said tightly, "is something _you_ know nothing about. Point."

Stiles winced at the blow but was happy to see he'd struck a nerve. "How did that happen anyway?" he asked. "Did you actually have feelings for another human being? Or did you go all Darwin and select the female most likely to pass on warrior genes to your offspring? I mean, I know you only had me because it was your duty, so I suppose you had to make sure you could give the guardians the best specimen you could."

"Stiles," his dad warned through gritted teeth, "for once in your life, shut up."

"Why?" Stiles stopped fighting and started shouting. He let the anger take over. "Am I tarnishing your precious reputation? Does it bother you that I want to know about my mother? Does human emotions make you that uncomfortable? Well, guess what? You suck at parenting! Why didn't you leave me with her instead? I hate you. Why are you even here? Go back to your other life where you don't have to deal with me, you selfish son of a—"

His dad's fist came flying at him, fast and hard — and, perhaps most importantly, a bit higher than the permissible according to rules of this kind of exercise. It smacked Stiles in the face with the power of a small truck, and Stiles flew backward, hitting the hard gym floor back-first and head-second.

It gave a whole other meaning to 'out of line'.


	21. The Lessons Ignored

Pain cracked through the back of his head, and Stiles vision went blurry and sparkly. He saw two of his father leaning over him.

"Oh, Stiles? Stiles? Are you okay, son?" His voice sounded hoarse and frantic.

The world swam.

At some point after that other people came, and Stiles somehow wound up in the Academy's med clinic. There, Dr. Deaton shone a light in his eyes and started asking him incredibly idiotic questions.

"What's your name?"

"What?"

"Your name," he insisted.

"You know my name."

"I want you to tell me."

"Stiles. Stilinski."

"Do you know your birthday?"

"Of course I do. Why are you asking me these things? Did you lose my records?"

Dr. Deaton gave an exasperated sigh and walked off, taking the annoying light with him. "He's fine," Stiles heard him tell someone. "Most of the damage happened to his face."

Stiles shot up from the bed. There was a mirror on the far side of the room. He ran over to it and looked at his reflection.

 _"Son of a bitch!"_

Purplish red splotches covered the upper portion of the left side of his face, particularly near the eye. Stiles left the clinic in a daze that had nothing to do with his head injury.

"Hey Stiles, is it true your own father punched you?"

Stiles froze. Turning slowly, he looked into the baby blue eyes of Liam Dunbar. When Liam caught full sight of Stiles' face, his eyes widened in unabashed delight.

"Wow. Talk about a face only a father could love."

 _Ha!_ Nice. From anyone else, Stiles would have applauded the joke.

"I'll give you one worse if you don't shut your mouth," said Stiles. "And this one won't be an accident."

"I don't know. Doesn't look like much of an accident to me," Liam said. "Don't you guys have rules about face punches? I mean, that looks really far out of bounds."

Stiles opened his mouth but nothing came out. Liam saw his hesitation and smiled. "Don't worry, Stiles. It'll go away. Besides, I think it actually improved your face."

Thirty seconds later, Stiles beat on Scott's door so hard, it was a wonder his fist didn't go through the wood.

"Dude! What happened?" said Scott.

"You haven't heard already? You're probably the only one in the school who hasn't." Sprawling on his bed, Stiles told him about the day's events.

"I heard you'd been hurt, but I figured it was one of your normal things," said Scott.

"No. And the worst part is: it really wasn't an accident."

"What, you're saying your dad did it on purpose?" Scott shook his head. "Come on, he wouldn't do that. No way."

"Why? Because he's the master of controlling his temper? The thing is, he's also master of fighting and controlling his actions. Either way, he slipped up."

"Yeah, well, I think him stumbling and missing his punch is more likely than him doing it on purpose. He'd have to really lose his temper."

"Well, he was talking to me, wasn't he? That's enough to make anyone lose their temper. And I did shout a lot of harsh things."

"So you kind of left out that part in your recap."

"He had it coming," Stiles justified.

"Why do you keep provoking him? Why can't you just make peace?"

Stiles sat up. "Make peace? He punched me in the face. On purpose! How do I make peace with someone like that?"

The feelings coming through the bond were ones of frustration and exasperation making clear Scott didn't agree with any of that. But there was something else there... something hidden. _Anticipation?_

"Do you have plans?" asked Stiles.

Scott's feelings shifted slightly, his irritation dimming a little. "I'm meeting Kira soon."

They lapsed into silence, and for the briefest of moments, Stiles wanted to pour his heart out to his friend. He'd had so much on his mind lately: his father, Malia, and the Mahealani house. He'd been keeping those feelings locked up, and they were tearing him apart.

Before he could open his mouth though, Scott said: "I'm late! I've got to meet Kira or she'll murder me!"

Joy filled him, underscored with a bit of nervous anticipation. Stiles rubbed his eyes and swallowed back the jealousy that started to raise its ugly head.

Back on his own room, alone again, Stiles lied in bed and tried to sleep without dinner. That's when a burst of emotion abruptly shot through his bond with Scott. It caught him unaware and gave him no chance to fight it. It was like being knocked over by a tidal wave that dragged him into Scott's mind.

And that's when things got really awkward.

Because Scott was with Kira.

And things were getting _pretty serious._

Kira was kissing him, and wow, was it a kiss. She wasn't messing around. It was the kind of kiss that small children shouldn't be allowed to see. It was the kind of kiss Stiles didn't want to see, much less experience.

 _Oh man. I need to get out of here._

They were up in the attic of the school's chapel and a celebration seem to be going on. They finally broke that insanely long kiss and pulled back to look at each other. Kira took off her shirt in a quick movement. Scott caught his breath. Then again she leaned down and gave Scott one of those hard, deep kisses.

Feelings both fond and hungry spread over them. Scott's heart was racing and his breathing quickening. Shifting down, he lay on top of her, pressing their bodies together. His mouth sought hers out again, and as their lips and tongues made contact, Stiles knew he had to get out of there.

Because he understood why Scott had seemed so anxious to go meet Kira. _This was it._ The moment. After a month of dating, they were going to have sex. In that moment, there were only the two of them and the way they felt about each other. And in a life filled with more worries than someone his age should have had, Scott felt absolutely certain about what he felt for Kira.

And Stiles had no right to be witnessing it.

But Jesus Christ, Scott wasn't making it easy to get out of his head. He had no desire to detach from his feelings and emotions, and the stronger they grew, the stronger they held Stiles.

Trying to distance himself, Stiles focused his energies on coming back to himself, concentrating as hard as he could.

More clothes disappeared...

 _Come on, come on._

 _You're your own person, Stiles. Get back in your head._

Stiles almost fell out of bed again. His whole world was askew. He felt strange and violated — almost unsure if he was Stiles or Scott. He wrapped his arms around himself and curled into a ball to try to squelch the ache within his chest. And with a metallic taste in his mouth, Stiles fell asleep.

Next day, he showed up early to meet Malia. So early, in fact, she wasn't even there yet. As he waited, Stiles saw Erica cutting across to one of the buildings.

"Since when are you up this early?" he called.

"Since I had to retake a math test," she said. "Might be worth skipping, though, to hang out with you."

Stiles laughed. "Nah. You might get in trouble, then I'd have no real challenge on the slopes."

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. "I wish I could say I'd end you. But I'd never cause you that much damage."

"So you still like me?" he teased her. "Even with a black eye?"

"Even with two black eyes," she winked.

Stiles grinned. "Come hang with me for Christmas, E," he said on impulse. "I'll be with Scott and Kira and her uncle. It'll be fun."

"Really?"

"Very fun."

"That's not what I was asking about."

"I know. Just be there, okay?"

Erica smiled genuinely. "Absolutely." And she wandered off just as Malia showed up for practice.

Malia said she simply wanted him to practice the maneuvers from two days ago. Stiles set to his task with a burning zeal, showing the dummies just what would happen if they messed with him. His feelings were out of control this morning, raw and intense after both the fight with his dad and what he'd witnessed with Scott and Kira.

Stiles wanted to kick some ass.

Malia sat back and watched him, occasionally critiquing his technique and offering suggestions for new tactics. Stiles grunted as he shoved the stake neatly up between the dummy's 'ribs'. He didn't know what these artificial bones were made of, but they were a bitch to work around. He thought about his dad again and added a little extra force to the jab.

"Stiles," Malia said warningly. Ignoring her, Stiles plunged again. "Stiles. Stop."

He backed away from the dummy, surprised to find his breathing labored. He hadn't realized he was working that hard. His back hit the wall.

"Look at me," she asked.

Slowly, reluctantly, Stiles turned toward her. She was closer than he had thought. She carefully touched his face, the parts that were purple and ugly.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"No," he lied.

"It doesn't look so bad," she told him. "It'll heal."

"I hate him," he said, astonished at just how much venom those three words held.

"No, you don't," she said gently.

"I do."

"You don't have time to hate anyone," she said, her voice still kind. "You're too good for that. You should make peace with him."

"Why am I the only one who sees how crazy he is?"

"He didn't do it on purpose. No matter how much you resent him, you have to believe that. He wouldn't do that, and anyway, I saw him later that day. He was so worried about you."

"Probably more worried someone will bring him up on child abuse charges."

"Don't you think this is the time of year for forgiveness?"

"This isn't a Christmas special!" he snapped. "This is my life. In the real world, miracles and goodness just don't happen."

"In the real world, you can make your own miracles."

Stiles' frustration suddenly hit a breaking point. "Okay, can you just stop this for once? This whole profound Zen crap thing. You don't talk to me like a real person. Everything you say is just some wise, life-lesson nonsense. I swear, sometimes it's just like you want to hear yourself talk! And I know you're not always this way. You were perfectly normal when you talked to Derek. But with me? You're just going through the motions. _You don't care_. You're just stuck in your mentor role. You are always trying to push me away!"

She stared at him, uncharacteristically surprised. "You think I don't care?" she looked almost shocked.

"No." Stiles pointed a finger at her face. "I think you care too much. So much, you don't know what to do with yourself. So you walk and talk like a freaking robot!"

Malia slapped his hand away. There was a flare of emotion in her eyes. It wasn't exactly anger... but it was frustration of another kind. "Don't tell me what I'm feeling," she growled.

"That's it, isn't it?" Stiles studied her. "You act all calm, but actually you're always fighting for control."

"I've learned my control," her voice trembled.

"No," Stiles said. "You haven't. You put on a good face, and most of the time you do stay in control. But sometimes you can't. And sometimes..." he leaned forward, "...you just don't want to."

He could see her labored breathing and knew her heart was beating as quickly as his. And she wasn't pulling away. Stiles knew he shouldn't be doing this — he knew all the logical reasons not to. But right then, he absolutely didn't care.

Before she realized what was happening, he kissed her. And when he felt her kiss him back, he knew he was right. Malia pressed herself closer, trapping Stiles between her and the wall. The kiss was filled with so much intensity; it held anger, passion, release... all the things that _shouldn't_ be there.

Malia jerked away from Stiles and took several steps back, looking shaken. "Don't do that again," she said so softly it was almost a plea.

"Don't kiss me back then," he retorted childishly.

She stared at him for what seemed like forever. "I don't give 'Zen lessons' to hear myself talk. I don't give them because you're another student. I'm doing this to teach you control."

"You're doing a great job," he said bitterly.

"Screw you, Stiles."

Then, without another glance at him, she turned and left the room.


	22. The Worst Christmas

Stiles didn't see Malia a while after that. She canceled their next training sessions and avoided meeting him anywhere.

And all because of that damn kiss.

Stiles regretted doing that to her. He'd been upset and frustrated and had simply wanted to prove that he could. He was doing his best, but the more he tried to keep in control, the more it seemed to slip away.

Erica met him on Christmas morning, and they went to go hang out with the others. It provided a good opportunity to push Malia out of his head. Stiles liked Erica — _a lot_. And it wasn't like he had to run off and marry her. He could just maybe give her a chance or something.

Derek was hosting the Christmas brunch. Lots of group activities and parties were occurring throughout the school, but Derek's presence created a disturbance. Some people secretly stared and went out of their way to avoid him. Others were more aggressive and demanded that he stayed away. Being very chill about it, Derek decided to simply enjoy a small, private party with those who didn't shun him.

Malia, unfortunately, had been invited to the gathering, and Stiles' regrets increased when he saw her. Worst of all — she'd actually dressed up for the occasion. _She was wearing a freaking red dress for Christ's sake!_ It was like she wanted to torture him. Her long hair was loose and every time she moved her sweet perfume would overwhelm him.

She went out of her way to ignore Stiles. She did talk to Derek, however, and Stiles watched with fascination and jealousy as they conversed in that easy way of theirs.

"What happened to that Sphinx?" Malia asked Derek. "I remember you liked her. I thought you guys were getting serious."

Derek nodded. "We were. But she insisted on talking to me in riddles. It's insane. I swear, everyday before bed it was: _'Which creature has one voice and yet becomes four-footed and two-footed and three-footed?'_ It was exhausting."

Malia laughed loudly at that. "I shouldn't laugh. But did she try to strangle or devour you when you refused to answer?"

"Oh, she wanted to. I saw it in those yellow eyes. That's when I knew it was time to end things."

They both laughed, and Stiles turned away, grateful Erica was there. She was a good distraction from everything, because in addition to Malia ignoring him, Scott and Kira were chatting on in their own little world too. Sex appeared to have made them that much more in love if that was even possible.

Scott did eventually break away from Kira to give Stiles a Christmas present.

"We said we weren't gonna buy anything!"

"I didn't buy it," said Scott. "I found it."

Inside the little box was a string of maroon-colored beads. Stiles lifted the beads out, and a heavy gold crucifix swung from the end of them. Scott had given him a _chotki_ — it was similar to a rosary, only smaller. Bracelet-size.

"Are you trying to convert me?" Stiles asked wryly.

"Flip it over," Scott said.

Stiles did. On the back of the cross, a small Werewolf had been carved into the gold. Stiles looked up at him, puzzled.

"It's a family heirloom," Scott explained. "One of my dad's good friends has been saving boxes of his stuff. This was in it. It belonged to my great-grandfather's guardian."

The _chotki_ took on a whole new meaning. "I... you can't give me something like this."

"Well, I certainly can't keep it. It's meant for a guardian. _My_ guardian."

Stiles wound the beads around his wrist. The cross felt cool against his skin.

Derek turned back to Malia. "See? Not even Scott respected the no-gifts rule. And if I hadn't bought you this dress you'd have nothing to wear. You need to make pretty, Lia, or—" he stopped when he looked up at the door. "Stilinski!"

Stiles' dad stood there.

"Sorry I'm late, Derek," he said. "I had business to take care of."

Of course he had business to take care of on Christmas.

Stiles felt his stomach turn and heat rise to his cheeks as he remembered the last time they had seen each other. He felt that taste in his mouth. They hadn't talked once since them. No apologies. No nothing. Stiles gritted his teeth.

His dad sat down with them and soon joined in the conversation. The thing was, his dad only knew one subject — guardian stuff.

"Well, decapitations aren't as easy as they seem," he said in his matter-of-fact way. "You've got to get through the spinal cord and tendons."

Erica's eyes lit up. "What's the best weapon to do it with?"

"An axe. You can get more weight behind it."

"Cool," she said. "Man, I hope they let me carry an axe." It was a comical and ludicrous idea, since axes were hardly convenient weapons to carry around.

Stiles honestly couldn't believe they were having this conversation on Christmas. Fortunately, the gathering eventually dispersed. Scott and Kira went off to do their own thing, and Malia and Derek decided to do the same. Erica showed interest into going back to Stiles' room with him, but Stiles' dad messed everything up asking to be alone with his son.

Worst Christmas ever.

"I've been wanting to talk to you," his dad finally said when it was just the two of them.

Shifting uncomfortably, Stiles looked everywhere but at him and waited for him to speak. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few people glancing over at them. Stiles suddenly decided he didn't want witnesses around for whatever lecture his dad was about to unleash on him.

"You want to, um, go to my room?" he asked.

His dad looked surprised, almost uncertain. "Sure."

An awkward tension built between them. His dad didn't say anything when they reached the room, but Stiles saw him examine every detail carefully, as though a Vampire might be lurking in there. Stiles sat on the bed and waited while his dad paced. He ran his fingers over a stack of books on animal behavior and evolution.

"Are these for a report?" he asked.

"No," said Stiles. "I'm just interested in it, that's all."

His eyebrows rose. He hadn't known that. But how would he? He didn't know anything about Stiles. He continued his appraisal, stopping to study little things that apparently surprised him about his son. A picture of Scott and Stiles dressed up like zombies for Halloween. A bag of SweeTarts. It was as though his father were meeting him for the first time.

Abruptly, he turned and extended his hand toward Stiles. "Here." He dropped something small and cool into Stiles' hand. It was a round pendant, a small one — not much bigger than a dime in diameter. A base of silver held a flat disc of colored glass circles. Frowning, Stiles ran his thumb over its surface. It was strange, but the circles almost made it look like an eye.

"Thanks," Stiles said. The gift was weird and unexpected.

"It's a _Nazar_ ," his dad explained. "It's an old superstition from the Middle East. They believe some people can cast 'the evil eye' on others. The _Nazar_ fights it. It protects you, I suppose." He spoke confusingly, as if he'd rehearsed that. "How's your eye?" his dad asked.

"Getting better."

"Good. I'm sorry about that. You know that, right?" and he looked at his son, unsure.

Stiles hadn't expected an apology. Shocked, he just nodded. His dad started pacing again.

"It was nice of Derek to invite you," noticed Stiles.

"Yes. He's a nice guy."

"Agreed."

They stared at each other. If Stiles hadn't known any better, he'd have said they'd just agreed on something. Maybe Christmas miracles did happen.

"Guardian Tate will be a good match for him."

Stiles blinked and almost dropped the Nazar. "Malia?" he asked, not entirely sure what he was talking about.

 _"Guardian Tate,"_ his dad corrected sternly.

"What... what kind of match are we talking about?"

His father raised an eyebrow. "You haven't heard? Derek's asked her to be his guardian — since he doesn't have one."

Stiles felt like he'd been punched again. "But she's... she's assigned here. To Scott!"

"Arrangements can be made. And regardless of the Hale reputation... Derek's still royal. If he pushes, he can get his way."

Stiles stared bleakly into space. "Well, I guess they are friends and everything."

"More than that, I hope."

 _Bam!_ Punched again.

"What?"

"He's interested in her. Always has been. Ever since Matt Daehler introduced the two of them."

Time froze.

Stiles had the strangest sensation of emptiness... like his heart had stopped beating or something. "How do you know these things?" he asked.

"I know everything about Guardian Tate," his dad said. Stiles recalled what Malia had told him. "Her father, Henry, was my partner. I was with him when he —when he died. We'd been very good friends. I brought her here. To study. To train. And she's been extraordinary. Like her father, she understands our decisions make us who we are. And that we can't just do what we want. Not when lives depend on us."

After a while, Stiles realized his dad was studying him. For a few seconds, Stiles thought his dad might know about the war happening inside of him. But how could he?

"Has she given him an answer yet?" Stiles asked weakly. Fear started boiling inside of him. What if he had messed everything up? What if after what he'd done to her, Malia was ready to go as far away from him as possible?

His dad shrugged. "I don't think she's agreed to it yet, but of course she will. It's a great opportunity. It's her only chance to have... well, love."

"Of course," Stiles echoed. Why would Malia turn down the chance to be a guardian to a friend of hers? It was indeed the only way guardians were allowed to marry — if they were marrying their charges. It was most likely her only chance.

Stiles' dad said something else after that, but Stiles didn't hear it. He kept thinking about Malia leaving Beacon Hills, leaving him. He thought about the way she and Derek had gotten along with each other so well. He had even bought her a dress! And then, after those recollections, his imagination started improvising future scenarios. Derek touching her. Kissing her.

Stiles rubbed his eyes; his hands shaking.

"I'm really tired."

His dad stopped mid-sentence.

"I am," Stiles repeated. He could hear the hollowness in his own voice. "Thanks for the eye... um, thing, but if you don't mind I want to sleep now..."

His dad stared at him in surprise. Then, just like that, his usual wall of cool professionalism slammed back into place. Until that moment, Stiles hadn't realized how much he'd let it up. But he had. For just a brief time, his dad had made himself vulnerable with Stiles.

That was gone now.

"Of course," he said stiffly. "I don't want to bother you."

Stiles wanted to tell him it wasn't that. He wanted to tell him he wasn't kicking him out for any personal reason. He wanted to maybe tell him the truth, about Malia, about everything. Confide in him. But Stiles was too caught up in his own personal drama to say a word. His back hurt. His throat went dry.

There was a burning, agonizing pain in his chest, and he had no idea how it could ever be filled.

Without another word, his dad turned around and left.

Stiles just sat there staring the closed door. It was one thing to accept that he couldn't have Malia. It was something entirely different to realize someone else could.

Yeah... worst Christmas ever.


	23. The Only Daughter

The ski trip couldn't have come a moment too soon.

The Academy had access to a couple of private jets. This meant no Vampires could attack them at an airport, and it also meant they got to travel in style. Each jet was smaller than a commercial plane, but the seats were cushy and had lots of leg room.

They left late on the twenty-sixth. When Stiles boarded the jet, he wasn't surprised to see Scott sitting with Kira, and they didn't look like they wanted to be interrupted. Stiles couldn't hear their conversation, but Scott'd put his arm around her and had that relaxed, flirty expression that only she could bring out.

Stiles put on a smile and nodded at them as he passed down the aisle toward where Erica was waving at him. As he did, Stiles also walked by Malia and Derek sitting together.

He pointedly ignored them.

Erica smiled at him. "Hey. You ready for the ski challenge?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Don't worry, Stiles," she nudged him. "I'll go easy on you. It's not like I want to humiliate you in front of everyone you know."

Stiles scoffed and leaned his head back against the seat. "You're so delusional."

"Humph. Sane girls are boring." And she slid her hand over his. Her skin was warm, and Stiles felt his own skin tingle in response.

 _It's time to move on,_ something whispered in his ear. Deciding to listen, Stiles laced his fingers with Erica's, catching her off guard. "This is going to be fun."

And it was.

The resort was awesome. It was built to sort of look like a log cabin, but no pioneer cabin could have held hundreds of people or had such luxury accommodations. Mountains surrounded them. One side of the grounds led off to the skiing area; another side of the lodge had an ice rink.

And that was just the outside.

The room Stiles shared with Scott was bigger than their dorm rooms put together. Drowning in so much luxury, Stiles decided he would spend the rest of the vacation inside that room and be perfectly content. Scott had other plans and had to practically drag Stiles from the room.

Outside, Stiles actually enjoyed himself. For the first time in weeks, he was able to finally focus on Erica and realize just how much fun she was. They both loved attention, considered themselves funnier than they actually were and wished for nothing more than to nag each other endlessly. He also got to hang out with Scott more than he had in a while, which put him in an even better mood. Back in the day, it'd been just the two of them. None of this girlfriend crap or people trying to kill Scott.

 _Good times._

All of that helped Stiles feel good again, lighter as if that dark force was also taking a vacation. They kept this kind of a double-date thing going. The four of them spent almost all of their first day skiing, though the half-breeds had a bit of trouble keeping up.

"You guys are suicidal," remarked Kira at one point. It was dark outside, and Erica and Stiles' competitive nature had been taking them way too far on their stunts.

Kira and Scott waited for them at the bottom of the mogul hill. Stiles and Erica came down moving at insane speeds. Erica grinned as they skidded to a halt, sending up a spray of snow. "Nah, this is just a warm-up. I mean, Stiles has been able to keep up with me the whole time. Kid stuff."

Scott shook his head. "Aren't you guys taking this too far?"

Erica and Stiles exchanged a look. "No."

"Well, we're going inside," decided Scott. "Try not to kill yourselves." He and Kira left.

Stiles and Erica kept playing until the two of them were utterly exhausted.

Later, when Erica went to take a shower, Stiles was left to mend for himself. He when back inside through a different doorway than he normally used. This entrance was set behind a huge, open porch. He thought he was completely alone until someone said: "Hey, little guardian."

Startled, Stiles turned. A girl — a half-breed — leaned against the wall not far from the door. She crooked him a smile. She was a short little thing, with peach colored skin, strawberry blonde hair and large emerald eyes. She was dressed in very expensive clothes; she looked like she'd just come from a dinner party or something of the kind.

"Yeah?" he asked softly, unsure if she was referring to him.

Her eyes swept over his body. "You're cute, you know," she said like he was a lost puppy in the middle of the road.

Stiles gave her a puzzled look, which only made her sly smile grow a little bigger. "I... um, what?"

"Cute," she repeated.

Stiles looked over his shoulder to make sure she was talking to him. He had been sweating all day and probably looked disgusting. Plus, he was still wearing that black eye. But this girl — who was insanely good looking — didn't seem to care.

 _Maybe she can't see very well_ , he thought. _It's dark out here..._

She got closer and Stiles, automatically, got farther away. She hesitated. "What was that?"

"What?"

"You stepped back," she accused.

"You stepped forward," he said.

It took her a moment to answer. "Maybe I wanted to kiss you."

Stiles opened and closed his mouth several times before he could remember how to speak. "Oh, uh, I'm all sweaty and—"

"Sweat isn't a bad thing," she said, getting closer. This time he let her. "Some of the best things in life happen while sweating. It's intoxicating. They say the way Vampires see, hear or smell things is way more intense than a regular half-breed. Obviously, they don't know much about Banshees."

Stiles swallowed. He had no idea who were 'they'. "T—thanks?"

"You're from Beacon Hills?"

"Yup."

"So you're going to be a guardian."

"How do you know that?"

"I know a lot of things," she whispered, her eyes unfocused. For a second, she seemed to barely know where she was. Then she set her eyes on Stiles again. "How long until you're all ready to go? I might need a guardian."

"I graduate in the spring. But I'm already spoken for..."

Surprise flickered in her eyes. She didn't know that. And she didn't like not knowing things. "Yeah? Who is she?"

"No, uh... Scott McCall."

"Ah." Her face split into a huge grin. "I knew you were trouble as soon as I saw you. You're Guardian Stilinski's son."

"Stiles," he corrected, not wanting to be defined by his father.

"What the hell is a Stiles?"

"Uh, me. That's me. That's my name."

She gave him the once-over. "Nice to meet you, Stiles." She extended a hand that he hesitantly took. "Lydia Martin."

"Wow," he said. "And you think I'm trouble." The Martins were a royal family and, at the moment, the most important one, the wealthiest and most powerful. And everyone knew about the Queen's only daughter. Stiles knew rumors could be vicious, but looking at her he almost agreed to everything he'd heard: beautiful but, considering the way her eyes would lose focus, she wasn't _all_ there.

Lydia laughed. She had a nice laugh, rich and almost melodious. "Each of our reputations precedes us."

Stiles shrugged. "I don't really know anything about you."

"Do you want to?" she asked tauntingly.

His head spun. He had not idea what was happening. If that wasn't completely impossible, improbable, implausible, unlikely and unreal, he'd say Lydia Martin was hitting on him...

"Sorry. I—I have a girlfriend." He said without conviction while thinking about Erica.

"You don't seem so sure about that," Lydia pointed out. "Is she jealous? Did she give you that black-eye?"

Stiles felt himself blushing, even in the cold. He'd been hoping she wouldn't notice the eye, which was stupid. Everyone could see that deformity.

"Don't worry," she added noticing his discomfort. "I think it's pretty hot."

"Someone punching me in the eye?"

"Yeah. I'm a big fan of full-contact sports."

Stiles laughed nervously. "I'm sure you are."

Lydia was even closer now but her eyes didn't seem to see Stiles very well — it was like she was looking at something around him, something that didn't allow her to concentrate. "Well, we don't have to go too far if you don't want to. I can take things slowly."

"I—" Stiles' breathing turned heavy. _He_ was also having trouble concentrating. "Like I said, I—I have a... a..."

"Don't worry. I don't want a boyfriend. I want a distraction."

The sound of footsteps behind Stiles made him jump. Liam Dunbar and Hayden Romero came around the path and walked up the steps, holding hands, smiling admiringly at each other. When they saw the other two, however, they stopped.

"Oh, hey, guys," Stiles said cheerfully, his voice unnaturally high. "This is Lydia Martin."

Lydia turned on the same charm she was using on Stiles. "Always a pleasure to meet a friend of Stiles', especially the pretty ones."

Hayden didn't appreciate that.

"We're not his friends," Liam said dryly. His voice carried the usual scorn he harbored for Stiles, but there was a look on his face that showed Lydia had clearly caught his interest.

"Well, I'm not friends with her either..." Stiles voiced trailed off as he took another glance at Lydia.

She laughed. "Always playing hard to get, huh?"

"He's not that hard to get," said Liam.

"And you're not hard to trade," Stiles snapped back at Liam.

A flicker of embarrassment passed over the boy's face. Hayden's cheeks colored and she pulled her boyfriend by the arm. "Let's just go, Liam. Please?"

Liam glanced at her. "Yeah, fine." But before turning around, he said to Lydia. "His dad gave him that black eye, you know."

And then they were gone.

An awkward silence fell. Lydia watched him with curiosity. "Is that true?"

Stiles nodded slightly.

"You're one of those people who either has soul mates or mortal enemies, aren't you? No in-between."

"I've got to go." Stiles decided, suddenly not feeling so enthralled by her anymore.

"Are you sure?" She sounded only mildly disappointed. Mostly she seemed as cocky and amused as before. "I have lots of grown-up things I'd like to talk about."

"It's late, I'm tired," he justified backing away from her.

"Well, _Stiles_ , I can't wait to see you again. If you're this charming while tired and this handsome while bruised, you must be devastating at your peak."

If by devastating she meant depressing as hell, then yeah.

"Good night," he mumbled walking into the lodge.

As the door closed, he just barely heard her call behind him, "I _will_ see you again, little guardian."


	24. The Other Attack

The next morning, Stiles woke up to a group of people talking. Kira was sitting with Scott in his bed. "Sleeping Beauty awakes," she joked.

Stiles grunted something or other. He sat up and saw Derek Hale was there too.

So much for avoiding him...

"Good morning," he said.

"You've got to see this," Scott said enthusiastically.

"What's going on?" asked Stiles.

"Honestly?" Scott said mischievously. "You'll approve."

Kira walked over to the empty space and faced Derek who, Stiles noticed, had a flip-flop in his hand. They regarded each other.

"Okay, focus," said Derek.

"Why can't I just do it?" asked Kira.

"Because you waste a lot of energy," he told her. "Plus, you might kill your opponent."

"I don't want to kill Vampires?"

"You might not always be fighting one. Or maybe you need information from them. Regardless, you should be prepared either way. You must have control."

They were practicing offensive magic, Stiles realized. Excitement and interest replaced the sullenness he'd acquired upon seeing Derek. Stiles had suspected they were practicing offensive magic, but... wow. Thinking about it and actually seeing it were two very different things. Using magic as a weapon was forbidden. A punishable offense. A student experimenting with it might be forgiven and simply disciplined, but for an adult to actively be teaching a minor... That could get Derek in major trouble.

For half a second, Stiles toyed with the idea of turning him in.

"You need to channel your power," he continued. "Keep your energy on the flip-flop. Don't let it touch me."

Kira's eyes took on an intense focus. Her wrist flicked forward, and a streak of lightning hit the flip-flop. It didn't shock Derek, but from the way he flinched, Stiles suspected it had been close enough for him to feel a sting or something.

"Not bad," said Derek. "But you're still putting too much energy into it. You want to stun someone; not kill."

He and Kira practiced a while longer. She improved as time went by, and Stiles' interest grew and grew as they went on, and he found himself pondering all the possibilities this kind of magic could offer against Vampires.

They wrapped up their lesson when Derek said he had to go.

"I still think it'd be easier to just burn them entirely though," Kira argued.

Derek smiled. "Easier because it involves less focus. It's sloppy and lazy, even for you. Your magic'll be stronger in the long run if you can learn this. And, like I said, it has its uses."

"It could be really useful if you were fighting with a guardian," Stiles said excitedly. "Especially if completely frying a Vampire takes so much energy. This way, you use just a quick burst of your strength to distract the Vampire. Then that's all the time a guardian would need to stake them. You could take down a whole bunch of Vampires that way."

Derek grinned at him. "Exactly. You and I'll have to go Vampire hunting someday," he teased.

"I don't think so," Stiles words in and of themselves weren't that bad, but the tone he used to deliver them certainly was. Cold. Unfriendly. Derek looked momentarily surprised at his abrupt change in attitude but shrugged it off.

Scott gave Stiles a slap on the back of the head as he, Kira, and Stiles walked down to the lobby.

 _"Ouch!"_

"What was that about?" he asked.

"What was what about?"

"Stiles," he said meaningfully. "You totally bit Derek's head off."

Stiles put his hands in his pockets and tried to ignore that metallic taste in his mouth. "Look, I'm just grumpy, okay? Didn't get much sleep. Besides, I'm not like you. I don't have to be polite all the time, Your Highness."

Scott stared at him astonished. Kira glowered, on the verge of snapping. "Hey, man," Scott said softly. "Are—Are you sure? You haven't eaten properly, I've noticed. And you haven't been sleeping. I think—"

Erica mercifully chose that moment to approached them.

"Oh, thank God," Kira rolled her eyes. "Would you do something about your boyfriend? He needs spanking."

Stiles was about to say that if she wasn't happy around him she could just stay the hell away, but Erica was staring at him with Kira's same angered expression.

"He does need spanking. And not the good kind. See, my 'boyfriend' here spent the night with Princess Lydia Martin, I'm told."

Stiles swallowed what he was about to say. "I—What?"

"Rumors are everywhere, Stiles. I heard you guys got drunk last night and spent the rest of the night doing God-knows-what."

"Really?" asked Scott, startled.

Stiles looked between both their faces. "Of course not. I barely know her."

"But you do know her," pushed Erica.

"Barely."

"They say she's bonkers, you know," warned Kira. "Sees dead people and all of that crap. I don't know. But they also say she goes through a lot of guys."

Stiles felt his annoyance growing by the minute. He rubbed his eyes. "I talked to her for, like, five minutes. And you of all people should know that rumors aren't always true," he said to Kira who just shrugged. "Who told you this, E?"

Erica faltered and that was all Stiles needed — he immediately knew who had told her that: Liam. She awkwardly tried to change the subject. "Should we go outside? I bet I can take you today."

Stiles agreed but Scott shook his head. "We can't. We have to go to this royal luncheon."

Kira groaned. " _You_ have to go."

"Well, the invitation said I get to bring a guest. And that guest is you. Get used to it. Besides, this is just a warm-up for the big one."

"Which one is that?" asked Erica.

"Queen Natalie's best friend's huge dinner," sighed Kira. "All the snobbiest royals will be there, and I'll have to wear a dress."

Erica flashed her a grin. "Skiing's sounding better and better, huh? Less of a dress code."

They left the half-breeds behind and went outside. The full moon hung in the blankness. The light posts lit up the snow. And if Stiles managed to turn away and block the lights from his field of vision, he could look up and see actual stars spilling over the sky. How long since the last time he'd stopped to look at stars?

Again, they stayed out for most of the day again, but this time, Stiles called it quits early, pretending to be tired.

They headed back toward the lodge walking very close to each other, laughing about something they'd seen earlier. Suddenly, Stiles saw a streak of white in his peripheral vision, and a snowball smashed into Erica's face. Stiles immediately went on the defensive, jerking backward and peering around.

"Too slow, Reyes," someone called. "Doesn't pay to be in love."

Laughter. Erica's best friend, Boyd, and a few other novices from school materialized from behind a cluster of trees.

"We'll still take you in, though, if you want to be on our team," said Boyd. "Even if you do dodge like a girl."

"I am a girl," said Erica provokingly. "What's _your_ excuse?"

"Team?" Stiles asked excitedly.

Back at the Academy, throwing snowballs was strictly prohibited because it could inspire some of the snow users half-breeds to use their powers, and then some of the others could do the same, and then everything they stood for would literally turn into a snowball.

A snowball fight wasn't that rebellious, but after all the stress Stiles had been through recently, throwing objects at other people suddenly sounded like the best idea in the world. Erica and Stiles dashed off with the others and had an even better time than yesterday.

Later, Erica and Stiles once again started back for the lodge, and their mood was so high next thing they knew they were making out in a corner before anyone could say 'I-miss-someone-who-isn't-mine-to-miss.'

And Erica's lips felt amazingly warm in the freezing air. It wasn't like the earth-shattering kiss Stiles had had with Malia before the trip, but it was sweet and nice — a friendly sort of kiss that maybe could turn into something more.

Stiles dropped into bed with a smile on his face. He wasn't technically sure if they were a couple now, but they were very close to it. And maybe it was for the best. Maybe this would help. Maybe turning life around wasn't as impossible as it had seemed a few days ago.

But when he slept — he actually slept — he dreamed of Lydia Martin.

They were in that same porch but now it was summer. The sun hung bright in the sky, coating everything in golden light. Stiles hadn't been in this much sun since ever. All around, the mountains and valleys were green and alive. Birds sang everywhere.

Lydia leaned against the porch's railing. "You're scared?" she asked. "You're wearing a lot of protection."

Stiles frowned, then looked down. He was wearing that weird blue eye his dad had given him and Scott's _chotki_. The he looked back up at her, studying the way the sun made her strawberry blonde hair glow. "You, uh, look good in the sun."

She gave a lazy shrug. "Yes. That's why is always sunny in my dreams."

"But this is _my_ dream."

"Are you sure?"

Stiles wasn't. "I... I don't know."

Lydia chuckled, but a moment later, the laughter faded. "Why do you have so much darkness around you?" she asked deeply concerned.

Stiles looked down at himself once more. He didn't see anything. "What?"

"You're surrounded in blackness." Her eyes studied him shrewdly. "I've never seen anyone like you. Shadows everywhere. Even while you're standing here, the shadows keep growing."

Stiles looked down at his hands but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Fear darkened her face. "Oh no," she let out, her eyes losing focus.

"What?" Stiles took a step toward her. She didn't move. "Lydia... What happened?"

"They're dead," she said.

"Who?"

The emerald eyes focused on him. "Wake up, Stiles."

Stiles woke up.

Someone was shaking him. _Scott._ His feelings hit Stiles so hard through the bond that Stiles briefly snapped into his mind and found himself looking at... well, himself. Weird didn't begin to cover it. He pulled back trying to sift through the terror and alarm coming from Scott.

"What's wrong?"

"There's been another attack," said Scott.

Stiles was out of the bed in a flash. In the lodge, people clustered in small groups, everyone talking at the same time. Family members sought each other out. Everyone had a different version of what had happened.

Frustrated with the differing stories, Stiles, reluctantly, went to seek out the source who would give him solid information: _his dad._

The door to his dad's room was ajar, and as Scott and Stiles entered, they saw that a lots of guardians were milling around, moving in and out, and discussing strategy. Stiles' dad stood with a group of guardians, one of whom was Malia. So much for avoiding her too. Her dark eyes glanced at Stiles briefly and he averted his gaze.

Eight half-breeds had been killed along with their five guardians. Three half-breeds were missing, either dead or turned. The attack hadn't really happened near here; nonetheless, a tragedy like this couldn't help but reverberate within their world and people were terrified.

"There had to be more than last time," said Stiles' dad.

"More?" exclaimed one of the other guardians. "That last group was unheard of. I still can't believe nine Vampires managed to work together — you expect me to believe they managed to get more organized still?"

"Yes."

"Any evidence of humans?" someone else asked.

Stiles' dad hesitated. Then: "Yes. More broken wards. And the way it was all conducted... it's identical to the Mahealani attack." His voice was hard, but there was a kind of weariness in it, too. It wasn't physical exhaustion, though. It was mental. Strain and hurt over what they were talking about.

Ever since that massacre, they'd extensively analyzed the oddity of such a large group of Vampires teaming up and recruiting help. But no one had seriously considered that it would happen again, especially so soon. Now it looked as though that group of Vampires hadn't been a random occurrence. They'd united with purpose, utilized the help of either humans or half-breeds strategically, and had attacked again. Vampires were actively seeking out large groups of prey.

Serial killings.

They could no longer trust the protective magic of the wards.

They couldn't trust sunlight.

But worst of all — they couldn't trust each other.


	25. The Council

"They don't have forensic details yet," resumed Guardian Stilinski, "but the same number of Vampires couldn't have done this. We have no survivors so far. And with five guardians, seven Cold Ones would have been preoccupied — at least temporarily — for some to escape. We're looking at nine or ten, maybe."

"And if you look at the venue," said Malia opening a map before them. "It's too big. Seven couldn't have covered it."

Stiles watched his dad with fascination. He had never seen him in action in a real-life crisis. He showed every bit of that hard control he did around Stiles, but here, Stiles could see how necessary it was. A situation like this created panic. Even among the guardians, Stiles could sense those who were so keyed up that they wanted to do something drastic. His dad was a voice of reason, a reminder that they had to stay focused and fully assess the situation. His composure calmed everybody; his strong manner inspired them.

This, Stiles realized, was how a leader behaved.

Malia was just as collected as he was, but she deferred to him to run things. Stiles had to remind himself sometimes that Malia was too young to really be in charge of anything.

"At least this much we know," muttered one guardian, "they're going after royals."

"They're going after half-breeds," said Malia flatly. "Royal. Non-royal. It doesn't matter anymore."

Royal. Non-royal. That didn't sound right. Stiles' spontaneous instincts wanted him to jump up and ask a question right now, but he knew better. This was the real deal. This was no time for irrational behavior. He wanted to be as strong as his dad, so he waited for the discussion to end.

When the group started to break up, he leapt up off the sofa and pushed his way toward his father.

"Stiles," he said, surprised. Like in Harris' class, he hadn't noticed Stiles was in the room. "What are you doing here?"

"Who else was killed?"

Irritation wrinkled his dad's forehead. "What do you mean?"

"Malia said—"

 _"Guardian Tate."_

"Yes. She said royals and non-royals. They had staff, right? Half-breeds who worked for them?"

Again, Stiles saw the weariness in him. "I don't know all the names." Flipping through a few pages, his dad turned the clipboard toward his son. "There."

Stiles scanned the list. His heart sank. "Oh no," he muttered.

Scott and Stiles were ordered to leave. The guardians didn't need either of them.

"What was that about?" asked Scott, once they were heading back to the main part of the lodge.

"The staff," Stiles said. "Liam's parents were part of their staff."

Scott stopped walking. He stared off into space. "Oh." His hands started shaking. "There's a band of Vampires organizing and attacking us! How many? And—And do you think they're coming here?"

"No," Stiles said firmly although he had no evidence of that. "We're safe here."

Scott agreed, but the pain remained in his face. He understood what was like to lose both yours parents in a single night. He knew it all too well.

There was nothing Stiles could say. He thought Liam was an absolute little bitch, but he wouldn't wish this on anyone. His protective instincts ran too strong and Stiles couldn't bear to leave Scott's side for the rest of the day.

The other guardians reinforced lodge security. A meeting was organized that night to discuss what had happened and what might be done in the future. Nothing official would be decided here; the half-breeds had a queen and a governing council elsewhere for those types of decisions. But the opinions gathered here would make their way up the chain of command.

Some guy was in charge of moderating and stood at the podium. Most of the royals on hand gathered at the front of the room. Everyone else, including students, took seats wherever they could. Erica, Kira, Stiles and Scott walked in and started to go sit in the back when Scott suddenly stopped.

"I'm going to sit in the front."

The other three stared at him.

"Look." He pointed. "The royals are sitting up there, sitting by family. Even Derek's there. I need to be up there and represent my name. And so do you," he added eyeing Kira.

She scoffed. "It's all a bunch of royal bullshit."

"I have to represent the McCalls."

"No one expects you to be there," Stiles told him.

Scott's face set into a determined expression. "I need to be up there." He'd spent most of the day quiet and tense, but now that was being overpowered by a steady confidence and determination. He recognized himself as one of the ruling families and wanted to do his part.

"Yeah," said Stiles softly. "You go, Scotty."

Scott met his eyes and nodded. A moment later, he turned to Kira. "You're the last living Yukimura. You should represent your family."

Kira opened her mouth to protest. She was always stubborn and difficult; those who tried to push her didn't succeed. But watching her face, Stiles saw the same realization he'd had about Scott come over her. She pressed her lips together in a grimace. "Okay."

Scott caught her hand, and the two of them walked off toward the front.

Erica and Stiles sat down. Malia showed up and — surprisingly — sat down on the other side of Stiles, hair tied in her usual braid. Stiles glanced at her but said nothing.

There he was, stuck between both of his girls.

"The answer's all around us," said David Whittemore, once he'd been given leave to speak. "Here. In places like this lodge. And Beacon Hills Academy. We send our children to safe places, places where they have safety in numbers and can be easily guarded. And look how many of us made it here, children and adults alike. Why don't we live this way all the time?"

"Plenty of us already do," someone shouted back.

Whittemore waved that off. "A couple of families here and there. Or a town with a large magical population. But those half-breeds are still decentralized. Most don't pool their resources — their guardians, their magic. If we could emulate this model..." He spread his hands out. "...we'd never have to worry about Vampires again."

A woman stood up; Tina Braid. "The problem is simply that we don't have enough guardians," she declared. "And so, the answer is simple: get more."

"Where do you propose getting more guardians from?" asked Whittemore. "They're kind of a limited resource, if you haven't noticed. And their numbers decrease every day."

Braid pointed to where Stiles and a few other novices sat. "We've got plenty already. I've watched them train. They're deadly. Why are we waiting until they graduate? If we accelerated the training program and focused more on combat training than bookwork, we could turn out new guardians when they're sixteen. Or even sooner."

Malia made a sound low in her throat that didn't seem happy.

"Not only that, we have plenty of potential guardians going to waste. Where are all the women? Why aren't these women doing their part? Why aren't they fighting for us? Why aren't they here?"

A long, sultry sneer came as an answer. All eyes turned toward Derek Hale. He stood up, his face bold and defiant.

"Those women aren't here because they're too busy raising their children — you know, the ones you want to start sending out to the fronts as soon as they can walk. Is it so horrible that they chose their own kind? Isn't that what we do best?"

Braid blushed but didn't back off. "We are the priority! Their lives only matter if we're here. Do I need to remind you that our guardians made a vow to do whatever it takes to protect us?"

"The ones who made that promise are here," cut Derek.

Tina Braid considered her next words. "Well, there's another solution. A more obvious one."

"Please," said Derek. "Enlighten us."

She crossed her arms, resolute. "Reproduce. More children, more warriors."

Derek actually laughed at her face. "Don't insult us, Tina. It's not like that'd be their greatest sacrifice for us. Maybe it's different in your family, but for the rest of us, sex is fun and doesn't always result in children."

Malia had straightened up now, her expression no longer angry. Probably she was excited that her new boyfriend had mentioned sex. Irritation shot through Stiles and he rubbed his eyes aggrassevely.

"Besides, you said it yourself, Tina, they've made a vow. And if I remember it well, there was something about only one child for each guardian? Your laws are getting a little confusing, aren't they?"

Stiles suddenly noticed Liam sitting by himself, farther down the row. Hayden must've been in the front with her family. Liam was slumped in his seat, his eyes were red-rimmed, his face paler than usual. A funny ache burned in Stiles' chest.

"And the reason we're waiting for these guardians to graduate is so that we can allow them to enjoy some pretense of a life before forcing them to spend the rest of their days in constant danger. They need those extra years to develop mentally as well as physically. They need to understand the importance of keeping us alive. They need to figure it out if they're willing to die for the ones who'll give nothing in return!"

"How dare you—"

"Pull them out before they're ready, treat them like they're parts on an assembly line — and you're just creating Vampire fodder."

A few people gasped at Derek's callous choice of words.

"You create more fodder still if you try making women become guardians against their will. You can't force them into protecting us! It has to come from them! This entire plan of yours to get more guardians relies on breaking rules you helped create and throwing children and the unwilling into harm's way, just so you can feel a little safer. I would have said it's the stupidest plan I've ever heard, if I hadn't already had to listen to his," and Derek pointed to Whittemore.

Embarrassment clouded the man's features. "You tell us then, Hale," he said. "Tell us what you think we should do, seeing as you have so much experience with Vampires."

A thin smile played on Derek's lips, but he didn't rise to the insult. "What do I think? I think we should stop coming up with plans that involve us relying on someone or something to protect us. You think there are too few guardians? I say there are too many half-breeds. And we've multiply and become more powerful because we do nothing except have stupid arguments like this. We run and hide behind our guardians and let the Vampires go unchecked. It is _our_ fault! _We_ are the reason our people are dying. You want an army? Well, here we are. Humans aren't the only ones who can learn to fight. The question isn't where the women are in this fight. The question is: where are we?"

Most people couldn't take their eyes off him. Scott was inspired. Erica looked hypnotized. Malia seemed impressed. And farther past her... Well, farther past her was Liam, who no longer hunched in his chair. He was sitting up straight, straight as a stick, his eyes as wide as they could go. He stared at Derek as though he alone held all the answers to life.

Tina Braid fixed her gaze on Derek. "Surely you aren't suggesting the half-breeds fight alongside the guardians when the Vampires come?"

Derek regarded her levelly. "No. I'm suggesting the half-breeds and the guardians go fight the Vampires _before_ they come."

A guy shot up from his chair. "Oh," he said in a mocking voice. "So, you're going to just give us clubs and stakes and send us off to do battle?"

Derek shrugged. "If that's what it takes, Donovan, then sure." A sly smile crossed his lips. "But there are other weapons we can learn to use, too. Ones the guardians can't."

Donovan Donati rolled his eyes to show how insane he thought that idea was. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

Derek's smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "Like this." He raised his hand and showed off his Werewolf claws. Donovan yelped in surprise. There was a brief, collective intake of breath throughout the room.

And then chaos broke out.


	26. The Party People

People stood up and shouted, everyone wanting their opinion to be heard. Most of them held the same view: _Derek was wrong_. He was crazy just like both his brothers had been; Peter and Ken. Sending out half-breeds and humans to fight the Vampires was the extinction of both races. They even had the nerve to suggest that that was Derek's plan all along — that he was somehow collaborating with the Vampires in all of this.

Malia stood up, disgust all over her features. "You might as well leave. Nothing useful's going to happen now."

Stiles followed her out, but Erica stayed. He couldn't believe it had only been a few days since he'd spoken to Malia; it felt like it'd been years. Being with Erica these last couple of days had been fantastic, but seeing Malia again, all of his old feelings came rushing back. His distress over the Derek thing also came back, and stupid words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Shouldn't you be in there with Derek? He could use reinforcements. The mob might get him otherwise."

"He can take care of himself." She glanced at Stiles, her eyes on the _Nazar_ , and smiled. "You know, that's from the Middle East."

Stiles barely heard her. "Yeah, yeah, because he's a badass karate Werewolf. I get all that. I just figured since you're going to be his guardian and all—"

Malia stopped in her tracks. "Where did you hear that?"

"I have my sources," he shrugged. "You've decided to, right? I mean, it sounds like a good deal, seeing as he's going to give you fringe benefits..." he stopped himself when he saw the look in her face.

"What happens between him and me is none of your business," she replied crisply.

The words stung. It sounded like she and Derek were a done deal. Stiles tasted metal in his mouth.

"Well, I'm sure you guys'll be happy together. He's just your type, too — always calling attention to himself," he said recalling something Gerard Argent had said about Matt Daehler.

Malia understood the reference. Her fist hit his face before he could regret his words. It hurt and it made him taste blood, but somehow Stiles was sure she had only use a third of her strength.

"How dare you?" she said after several moments of silence.

Stiles shrugged once more trying to look chill about it. His heart was on his throat. He didn't know where his words had come from. He didn't enjoy hurting her at all and using Matt Daehler against her was probably worse than being punched in the face for the second time in four days.

"My little guardian," a voice suddenly said nearby.

Slowly, still stunned, Stiles turned toward Lydia Martin. She smiled and gave a brief nod of acknowledgment to Malia. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Just wanted to talk to you when you have time."

Stiles forced a smile. "I've got time now." He followed Lydia without ever looking back.

"Why are you mad at her?" asked Lydia once they were alone.

"You're imagining things," Stiles said giving her a side glance.

"That's entirely possible," she conceded. "Sometimes I do have a hard time figuring what's real and what isn't. But I can read you so well, little guardian. Better than anyone else I've ever met. I don't know why, but... Oh, well. It doesn't matter."

"What do you want?" Stiles asked.

Lydia studied him for a moment. "I want you to grab Scott McCall and come with me. It seems you both need to clear your minds. Or should I say — mind?"

"A bunch of people just got slaughtered, and you want to go 'have fun'?"

"People getting slaughtered is exactly why we need a breather. We could die tomorrow, Stiles. Don't spend your last days fighting the ones that matter the most."

Stiles stared at her. "You mean Malia?"

Before Lydia could answer, Scott, Erica, Kira, Boyd and Liam appeared, all deep in conversation, though they all stopped talking when they saw Stiles.

"There you are," said Scott.

"Hey."

A moment of awkwardness hung around them. Stiles beamed at Lydia and then his friends. "Lydia invited us to a... party." They stared at him in surprise, and Stiles could almost see the wheels of speculation turning in their heads. Erica's face darkened a little, but like the others, she said nothing.

They all followed Lydia's directions to a doorway in one of the far wings of the lodge. It held a staircase that led down — and down and down — to a dark room with flashing colorful lights where a bunch of rich half-breeds were having the time of their lives.

"Why is Liam with you?" Stiles whispered to Scott.

"He was talking to Erica when we were getting ready to leave," he returned. "It seemed mean to just... I don't know... leave him..."

Stiles glanced over. Obvious signs of grief were written all over his face, but Liam seemed at least momentarily distracted by whatever Erica was telling him.

"I thought you didn't know Lydia Martin," Scott added.

"I don't," Stiles answered. "This is all... circumstantial."

Lydia didn't even stay around them, choosing to join a group of girls that were dancing. The music wasn't so loud they couldn't talk to each other. And once the drinking started, people started to sort of yell whatever they were thinking.

"You want to lead an army against the Vampires?" Kira suddenly asked Erica. The two had been talking among each other for the past fifteen minutes, but Stiles hadn't paid attention until now.

"It was your hot uncle who suggested it," Erica reminded Kira.

"No. He said we should find the Vampires before they find us again," countered Kira. "He wasn't the one pushing for novices fighting."

Stiles turned to Erica. "You think that's a good idea?"

"What else are we doing?" she asked indignantly. "What are _you_ doing? You run laps with Tate every morning. What's that doing for you? For the half-breeds?"

 _Making my heart race and my mind have indecent thoughts,_ Stiles answered mentally.

"We aren't ready," he said instead.

"We've only got six more months," piped in Boyd.

Erica nodded in agreement. "Yeah. How much more can we learn?"

"Plenty," said Stiles, finishing his drink. "Besides, where does it stop? Let's say they end school six months early, then send us off. What next? They decide to push back further and cut our senior year?"

She shrugged. "I'm already older than Tate," she justified herself. "If she can do it, I can do it. I'm not afraid to fight. I could have taken on Vampires when I was a sophomore."

Stiles decided to believe that was just the liquor talking.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day when I agreed with you, Stiles," said Kira. "But sadly, I do. The half-breeds have got to start helping us defend themselves. It's the only way."

"With magic?" asked Liam suddenly.

It was the first time he spoke and nobody answered him. There was a funny sort of hope in his eyes and Stiles could only imagine what he'd gone through today. He'd woken up to learn his parents were dead and then been subjected to hours and hours of political bantering and battle strategies.

"I suppose," said Stiles finally.

After a few more drinks, Erica seemed really, really cute to Stiles all of a sudden. He would have liked a little romantic attention from her, but Erica was still going on about Vampires and the logistics of leading a strike in the middle of the day. Liam and Boyd were nodding along with her eagerly. Kira thought a sort of preemptive strike would require guardians and half-breeds. Erica, Liam, and Boyd argued that if the half-breeds weren't up to it, the guardians should take matters into their own hands.

Stiles needed another drink. He stood up and climbed over the edge of the pool. The world started spinning. As he walked, Stiles paid special attention to his feet, trying not to stagger. Then he walked into someone.

"Hey, watch it," he said, steadying himself.

But the guy wasn't paying attention to Stiles. His eyes were on another guy, a guy with a bloody nose.

"You're afraid!" he yelled. "You're all afraid. You just want to hole up in your mansions and let the guardians do your dirty work. What are you going to do when they're all dead? Who'll protect you then?"

The other guy wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand, tried to land a hit and failed. "This is the safest way. Listen to that Vampire-lover, and we'll all be dead. He's trying to kill our whole race off!"

"He's trying to save us!"

"He's trying to get us to use offensive magic!" The first guy punched the other again, and for some reason, Stiles leapt into action. He sprang forward and wedged himself between them. He was still dizzy and a bit unsteady. They both hesitated, clearly caught off guard.

"Get out of here," snapped Bloody Nose.

Stiles pushed them aside. The first guy glared and took a step toward him. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed. People around were starting to notice the fight — even with the darkness and the loud music.

Stiles returned his glare. "I'm trying to stop you guys from being any more idiotic than you already are! You want to help? Stop fighting each other! Ripping each other's heads off isn't going to save anyone unless you're trying to thin stupidity out of the gene pool. And Derek Hale is not trying to kill everyone off. He's trying to get you to stop being a victim." Stiles turned to the first guy. "And as for you, you've got a long way to go if you think this is the way to get your point across."

The two guys stared at him, stunned. Except when their shock wore off the two of them decided to unite in order to beat Stiles up. He was on the ground before you could say 'pain-is-the-infinity-curse-of-a-lonely-heart'. He felt a foot slam hard against his stomach which almost made him throw up.

Then Erica was there — obviously not as drunk as Stiles was — punching the first guy. He flew backward, falling on the ground beside Stiles. Erica shoved Bloody Nose hard, pushing him into several half-breeds. The first guy managed to get up, fury written all over his face, and made moves toward Erica. This time, Scott and Kira blocked his way. He glared at all of them.

"Don't," Scott warned him.

The guy clenched his fists and looked as though he might try to take them on. But, with a few muttered threats, the he backed off.

As soon as he was gone, Erica knelt beside Stiles. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Huh?" he asked.

"Jumping into the middle of that!"

"You jumped in too," he said.

"Yeah, someone had to do something before your entire body got covered with bruises." She leaned forward. "Are you drunk?"

"No. Of course not." Stiles tried to get up and winced. Great. At least now the rest of himself would match the black eye his dad had given him and the swollen lip Malia had given him. "And just because you have delusions of being able to kill a Vampire doesn't mean you have to take it out on everyone else."

There it was again. The anger. The words that came out of nowhere. Words he didn't really mean. Or did he?

"Delusions?" Erica asked stiffly.

Stiles' nausea got worse just then. His head was spinning, but he still tried to get up. That's when all the vomit came out.


	27. The Crazy Talk

"Excuse me, Mr. Harris? I can't really concentrate with Scott and Stiles passing notes over there."

Liam was attempting to distract attention from himself — as well as from his inability to answer Mr. Harris's question — and it was ruining what had otherwise been a promising day. A few of the Maero rumors still circulated, but most people wanted to talk about Kira attacking Jackson.

Mr. Harris homed in on them like a missile. He snatched the note away and Stiles tried to look as blank and unconcerned as possible.

"My, my," Mr. Harris said, looking the note over. "If only students would write this much in their essays. One of you has considerably worse writing than the other, so forgive me if I get anything wrong here." He cleared his throat. " _'E showed up in my room last night,'_ begins the person with bad handwriting, to which the response is, _'What happened?'_ The first speaker says: _'What do you think happened? We hooked up.'_ "

Harris glanced up after hearing some giggles in the room.

"May I assume by this reaction that the use of _'hook up'_ pertains to the more recent, shall we say, carnal application of the term than the tamer one I grew up with?"

More snickers ensued. Straightening up, Stiles said boldly, "Yes, sir, Mr. Harris. That would be correct, sir." A number of people in the class laughed outright.

"Thank you for that confirmation, Stilinski. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the other speaker then asks, _'How was it?'_ The response is, _'Good.'_ Well. I suppose kudos are in order for the mysterious E, hmmm? _'So, like, how far did you guys go?'_ Uh, gentlemen," said Mr. Harris, "I do hope this doesn't surpass a PG rating. _'Not very. We got caught.'_ And we are shown the severity of the situation through the use of a not-smiling face. _'What happened?' 'Malia showed up. She threw Erica out and then bitched me about it.'_ "

The class lost it from finally getting some participants named.

"Why, Miss Reyes, are you the aforementioned E?" Erica's face turned beet red, but she didn't look entirely displeased at having her exploits made known. "Well, while I applaud a good misadventure as much as the next teacher whose time is utterly wasted, do remind your 'friends' in the future that my class is not a chat room." He tossed the paper back on to Scott's desk. "Stilinski, it seems there's no feasible way to punish you, since you're already maxed out on penalties around here. Ergo, you, Mr. McCall, will serve two detentions instead of one on behalf of your friend. Stay here when the bell rings, please."

Stiles gave Scott a sympathetic look. After class, Erica found him, an uneasy look on her face. "Did you have to write him about it?" she asked pissed.

Stiles shrugged, "Sorry."

Erica shook her head. "If Tate comes at me again, I'll—"

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles interrupted her. "Don't worry, she won't."

They headed for the dorm together. They passed a number of students gathered in small clusters outside the building.

"No, it's true," a confident voice said. "They, like, clean toilets or something."

"Oh my God," her friend said. "I'd die if I was Hayden."

Stiles smiled. Apparently Erica's source had spread some of the stories about Liam.

"What did Tate say to you after I left?" Erica asked bluntly.

Stiles glanced at her. "Nothing much," he lied. "She was just a little upset that—"

"—you weren't doing it with her?" Erica smiled. "I figured."

"That's not what I said."

"You didn't have to. Maybe you didn't notice. But I pay attention. You're so oblivious, Stiles. You miss all sorts of things. Now, are you gonna keep training with her? Isn't it going to be weird?"

Stiles hadn't really thought about it and he wasn't going to do it with Erica.

"Stiles, she's a crazy bitch. I told you already. I'm sure they'll let you go, if you don't want to train with her anymore. They can find someone else, someone who's not—"

"Why are you concerned with this?" he asked, but the moment he did the answer came to him. _She was jealous,_ he realized. Stiles could see it in her eyes. How had he never noticed this before? Erica was crazy about him. Guess he really was oblivious.

"You know what?" he said. "It's alright. Forget about it." He smiled. "I'll see you later." And Stiles walked away, sad he didn't feel the same way about Erica.

Later, after Scott was done with his punishment, the two of them sat together listening to Liam try to explain to his friends that his parents weren't servants or anything, they were practically royal advisers!

Stiles choked on a laugh, and Scott shook his head. "You're enjoying this waaay too much."

"Because it's awesome."

"Are you going to the assembly tonight?"

"Yeah. Finstock gave me permission."

A royal group was visiting the school, including Queen Natalie Martin herself. Stiles didn't think much of stiff royals, but this was a chance to hang out with actual people for a change and not stay locked in his dorm room. A little freedom was definitely worth the pain of sitting through a few boring speeches.

Stiles checked the clock on the wall. "Shit, gotta go. Malia's waiting for me." Scott nodded and Stiles rushed out of there. Malia had offered him extra trainings (something he purposefully kept from Erica), and Stiles was trying to not disappoint her. He now had two additional hours of practice with her, one before and one after school. And the more he watched her in action, the more impressed he was.

When he arrived at the gym, he noticed she was wearing a T-shirt and loose running pants, as opposed to her usual tight ones. It was a good look for her. Really good.

 _Stop looking,_ he immediately told himself.

They stood facing each other on the mat and Malia crossed her arms. "What's the first problem you'll run into when facing a Vampire?"

"They're immortal?"

"Think of something more basic."

He considered. "They're stronger."

Malia nodded. "That makes it difficult but not impossible. You can usually use a person's extra height and weight against them. Like I do."

She turned and demonstrated several maneuvers, pointing out where to move and how to strike someone. Going through the motions with her, Stiles gained some insight into why he took such a regular beating in group practice. He absorbed her techniques quickly and couldn't wait to actually use them.

"Go ahead," she said, again reading him like an open book. "Try to hit me."

Stiles didn't need to be told twice. Lunging forward, he tried to land a blow and was promptly blocked and knocked down onto the mat. Pain surged through his body, but he refused to give in to it. He jumped up again, hoping to catch her off guard.

He didn't.

After several more failed attempts, Stiles stood up and held out his hands in a gesture of truce. "Okay, what am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing."

"If I wasn't doing anything wrong, I'd have rendered you unconscious by now."

"Unlikely. Your moves are all correct, but this is the first time you've really tried. I've done it a lot of times."

Stiles shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Grandma. Can we try it again?"

"We're out of time. The queen has yet to punish me for the Maero before the banquet," she said like it was no big deal.

She walked off ahead of him. Studying her carefully, Stiles realized he couldn't let the opportunity go by. He leapt at her back, positioning himself exactly the way she'd taught him. He had the element of surprise. She wouldn't even see him coming.

But before he could make contact, Malia spun around at a ridiculously high speed. In one deft motion, she grabbed him like he weighed nothing and threw him to the ground, pinning him there.

Stiles groaned. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

Her eyes looked levelly into his as she held his wrists, but she didn't look as serious as she had during the lesson. It was almost like she was... _amused_. "The battle cry sort of gave you away."

"Would it have really made a difference if I'd been quiet?"

Malia thought about it. "Probably not."

All of a sudden, it occurred to Stiles that she was _still_ holding him down. The skin on her fingers was warm as she clutched his wrists. Her face hovered inches from his, and her legs and torso were actually pressing against his. Some of her long brown hair hung around her face, and by God, did she smell good. Breathing became difficult for him, and it had nothing to do with the workout or his lungs being crushed.

Stiles would have given anything to be able to read her mind right then. Ever since that night in the dorm, he had noticed her watching him with this same, studious expression, in a way that was almost admiring. And sometimes, if he was really, really lucky, she'd smile at him. A real smile that lit up her face and "gorgeous" no longer adequately described her.

"So um... you got any other moves to show me?" he asked.

Her lips twitched, and for a moment, Stiles thought something incredible was going to happen. But then, with visible effort, Malia shifted off him, leaned back on her heels, and rose. "Come on. We should go."

Stiles scrambled to his feet and followed her out of the gym. Malia didn't look back as they walked. Stiles had to be out of his mind. He so did not need this complication in his life right now.

After a quick shower, he headed off across campus to the reception. Tonight, someone had managed to transform the normally boring commons into a bona fide dining room. It looked fit for a queen.

The tables had been arranged in straight lines, creating an aisle down the middle of the room. They had assigned seating, and naturally, Stiles couldn't sit anywhere near Scott. Scott sat in the front with the other half-breeds; Stiles was in the back with the novices.

A head table sat on a dais at the front of the room, where they could watch Queen Natalie and other royals eat dinner. Guardians lined the walls, as stiff and formal as statues. Malia stood among them, and a weird feeling twisted Stiles's stomach as he recalled what had happened in the gym.

When the time came for the royals' entrance, they all stood up respectfully and watched. Stiles recognized a few: Gerard Argent was among them, walking slowly and with a cane.

Queen Natalie followed her guards, wearing a red silk dress and matching jacket. She was crowned with a Miss America-type tiara. She moved into the room slowly, like she was taking a stroll. Then someone caught her attention.

"Scott McCall."

Alarm coursed through the bond. Breaking protocol, Stiles pushed out of his position and wiggled over to get a better view.

"We heard you had returned. We are glad to have the McCalls back, even though only one remains. We deeply regret the loss of your parents; they were among the finest of us, their deaths a true tragedy. The McCall name commands its own respect. McCall kings and queens have ruled wisely and justly in our history. They have used their powers for miraculous ends. They have slain the Cold Ones, fighting right alongside their guardians. They are royal for a reason."

She waited a moment, letting the weight of her words sink in. Stiles could feel the mood changing in the room.

"Yes," Queen Natalie continued, "you are named with power. Your name represent the finest qualities people have to offer and hearken back in time to deeds of greatness and valor." She paused a moment. "But, as you have demonstrated, names do not make a person. Nor do they have any bearing on how that person turns out."

And with that verbal slap in the face, she turned away and continued her procession.


	28. The Will Power

Alone, he and Malia exchanged a look. "I have no idea," he told her. "That was really... strange. Even for her standards."

Malia agreed. She didn't sound angry so much as puzzled. "Why was she here? What did she want?"

"We were just talking. As you saw, she's a very, eh, peculiar person."

"This is the second time I've seen you with her."

Stiles studied her with curiosity. If this was anyone else, he'd say she was jealous. But Malia wasn't jealous of anything. Malia was just Malia. Serious. Businesslike.

"Yeah," Stiles replied glibly. "We hang out sometimes."

Malia arched an eyebrow. "She hangs out in your room a lot?"

Several retorts popped into his head, and then a golden one took precedence. "What happens between her and me is none of your business." He managed a tone very similar to the one she'd used on him.

"I'm your mentor. What you do _is_ my business."

"Not my personal life. You don't have any say in that."

"You're not an adult yet."

"Neither are you. Besides, it's not like I'll magically become an adult on my eighteenth birthday."

"Clearly," she said maliciously.

He blushed. "That's not what I meant. I—"

"I know what you meant. And the technicalities don't matter right now. I'm your instructor and it's my job to help you and to keep you from ruining you career as a guardian. And as I've told you before, having a girl in your bedroom can ruin—"

"What are you doing here then?" he snapped. "Visiting Derek, maybe?"

He expected a 'none-of-your-business' response. Instead she replied, "Actually, I was visiting your father."

"You going to hook up with him too?"

Malia rolled her eyes at his childishness. "No, Stiles," she said patiently, "we were looking over some new data about the Vampire attack."

His anger and snarkiness dried up. Suddenly, everything he was doing seemed incredibly trivial. Why was he standing there arguing with Malia about romances that might or might not be happening when she and the other guardians were trying to protect people?

"What'd you find out?" he asked quietly.

"We've managed to track some of the Vampires," she said. "Or at least the humans with them. There were witnesses who lived nearby who spotted a few of the cars the group used. The plates were all from different states — the group appears to have split up, probably to make it harder for us. But one of the witnesses did catch one plate number. It's registered to an address in Spokane."

"Spokane?" Stiles asked incredulously. "Spokane, Washington? Who makes Spokane their hideout? That's like the most boring northwest city."

"Vampires, apparently," she said, deadpan. "The address was fake, but other evidence shows they really are there. There's a kind of shopping plaza that has some underground tunnels. There've been Vampires sightings around that area."

"Then..." Stiles frowned. "Are you going to go after them? Is somebody going to? I mean, this is what Derek's been saying all along... If we know where they are..."

Malia shook her head. "The guardians can't do anything without permission from higher up. That's not going to happen anytime soon."

He sighed. "Because the half-breeds talk too much."

"They're being cautious," she said.

Stiles felt himself getting worked up again. "Come on. Even you can't want to be careful on this one. You actually know where Vampires are hiding out. Vampires who massacred children. Don't you want to go after them when they don't expect it?" he was starting to sound like Erica.

"It's not that easy," she said. "We answer to the Guardian Council and the magic government. We can't just run off and act on impulse. And anyway, we don't know everything yet. You should never walk into any situation without knowing all the details."

"Zen life lessons again," he sighed crossing his arms. "Why'd you tell me this, anyway? This is guardian stuff. Not the kind of thing you let novices in on."

Malia considered his words, and her expression softened. Stiles liked her best like this. "I've said a few things... the other day and today and... I also punched you in the face," she recalled. "I shouldn't have done that. And, uh, you're stupidity and tactlessness aside, you're capable of handling and processing the same things those much older than you do."

"There's a compliment there somewhere."

She hesitated. "You're... You've very childish, Stiles. Sometimes I can't... Anyway, maybe the only way to really change that is to treat you like an adult. I need to do that more. I know you'll take this information and understand how important it is and keep it to yourself."

Stiles didn't appreciate any of the things she'd called him, but he liked the idea of being treated like an equal.

"Lia," came a voice. Derek Hale walked up to them. Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek smiled when he saw him. "Hello, Stiles."

There went Stiles' mood.

"Hey," he said flatly.

Derek placed a hand on Malia's forearm. Stiles eyed that hand angrily. _How dare it touch her?_

"You've got that look," Derek told her.

"What look?" she asked. The stern look she'd worn with Stiles vanished. There was a small, knowing smile on her lips. Almost a playful one.

"That look that says you're going to be on duty all day."

"I have a look like that?" There was a teasing, mocking tone to her voice.

Derek nodded. "When does your shift technically end?"

Malia actually looked sheepish. "An hour ago."

"You can't keep doing this," Derek groaned. "You need a break."

"Well... if you consider that I'm always Scott's guardian—"

"For now," Derek said knowingly. Stiles felt sicker than he had last night. "There's a big pool tournament going on upstairs."

"I can't," Malia said, but the smile was still on her face. "And I don't play pool."

Suddenly, Stiles didn't want to be treated like an adult. He wanted Malia to treat him like she did Derek. Playful. Teasing. Casual. They were so familiar with each other, so completely at ease.

"That's true," Derek revealed. "You suck at pool." Then, glancing at Stiles, he said teasingly, "I hope you realize what a hard-core role model you have here. I don't think she's been off duty since she graduated."

"Well," mocked Stiles, "she'll be soon."

Derek looked puzzled. Malia shook her head.

"We're finished here, Stiles. Try to remember what I said."

"Whatever," he muttered. He watched Derek and Malia disappeared down the hall then closed his room's door. His hand hadn't left the knob when there was — yet — another knock. It was Erica.

 _Good God. Women everywhere._

"You're mad," she said as soon as she looked at his face. "What happened?"

"Abuse of authority. It's been a weird morning." Looking at her, Stiles remembered how he'd been convinced he wanted to get serious with her last night. He was a head case. He couldn't make up his mind about anyone anymore.

Deciding the best way to banish one girl was to pay attention to another, he grabbed Erica's hand and pulled her inside the room.

"Good thing you're not drunk anymore," she joked.

"Hey, I stand by my claims, no matter what."

Truth was, aside from when Malia inconveniently happened to be passing by his room, nobody was really enforcing the mixed-gender rule. So Stiles didn't feel guilty closing the door and letting Erica sit on the bed with him. He related to her what Malia had told him about the Vampires in Spokane. Malia had told him to keep it to himself: which was exactly what made him tell Erica all about it.

But revenge was a dish better served cold and cold Stiles felt after he was done speaking.

"What?" Erica exclaimed. "They're not doing anything? But if those Vampires go after another half-breed... another family... damn it! They're going to wish they weren't so careful then."

"There's nothing we can do."

"We could go."

"Go where?"

"To Spokane. There are buses you can catch in town."

Stiles laughed even though it wasn't funny. "You want us to go to Spokane and take on Vampires?"

"Sure. Boyd'd do it too... we could go to that mall. They wouldn't be organized or anything, so we could wait and pick them off one by one..."

Stiles could only stare, too late realizing the mistake he'd made. "Are you freaking crazy?"

She grimaced. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"It's not about confidence," he argued. Deep down, he also wanted to do something, to fight, anything. But seeing the seriousness in her face, seeing the weight of the responsibility, Stiles chickened out. "You kick major ass, E. I've seen it. But this... this isn't the way. We can't go get Boyd and take on Vampires. We need more people. More planning. More information." Deciding to take her mind off that, Stiles pulled her closer until their noses were touching. "Look, I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You're just saying that now 'cause you want to have your way with me."

"Uh-hu."

"Well," she teased, "I don't think I'm going to be too hard to take advantage of."

"Good. Because there are lots of things I want to do."

She slid her hands up and around his neck. "Don't let her change you," she said out of nowhere.

Stiles blinked. "What?"

"Tate, Stiles. You've gotten all serious since you've been training with her. You even act like her sometimes."

"No, I haven't."

Erica gave him a peck, but now he suddenly didn't feel so romantic. Where had this come from? Erica was supposed to be distracting him!

"You have, Stiles. And it's a turn off."

That made him angry, but before he could snap back, her mouth met his in a kiss. Reasonable discussions sort of vanished. A bit of that dark temper started to rise in him, but Stiles simply channeled that intensity into physicality as Erica and him fell on top of each other. Erica yanked him down on the bed, managing to do so without stopping the kissing.

She was nothing if not a multitasker.

She dug her nails into his back while his hands slipped under the bottom of her shirt. They trailed upward along her stomach, just barely tracing the edge of her bra.

Considering they'd just been having an argument a minute ago, Stiles was surprised to see things escalating so quickly. Honestly, though... he didn't mind. Everything was always fast and intense with him anyway. When he'd been with Malia, they hadn't been able to hold themselves back. Stiles could feel it all over again. Her smell. Her deep, powerful kisses...

"Stop," he told Erica.

This was no good. He was kissing Erica, but in his head, there was only Malia. With his eyes closed, it was easy to pretend. But then he would see Erica's cat-like eyes and how she simple adored him and had wanted him for a long time. For him to do this... to be with her and pretend he was with someone else... It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

 _You walk over everyone,_ Liam had accused him.

Erica smiled. "Don't be shy on me now, Stilinski." She reached for him again, and Stiles moved away.

"No, I just don't... I don't know. Let's call it quits, okay?"

"I..." She was speechless for a moment. "What is the matter with you?"

 _Yeah..._ he was starting to look pretty bad. He could do nothing right. He could see the truth in her face. Liam had been right. People didn't like the person he was becoming. They didn't like what they saw on him.

Stiles swallowed, feeling awful. "I'm sorry, E. I just can't."

Erica sat up. "I don't understand what's happening to you. One moment you're hot, the next you're cold. You tell me you want me, you tell me you don't. If you picked one, that'd be fine, but you keep making me think one thing and then you end up going in a completely different direction. Not just now — all the time. Why can't you make up your mind?"

"I don't know," he said weakly.

"Stiles..." she said lovingly. "What do you want?"

 _Malia_.

"I don't know."

With a groan, Erica stood up and headed for the door. "Then find out. And also — grow the hell up, yeah?"

The door slammed behind her. The noise made him flinch. He stared at where the women in his life had stood to offer help, to give advice, to share love, and Stiles finally made up his mind about what he wanted to do.

 _Grow up._


	29. The Right Thing

Stiles spent the rest of the day lying in bed and thinking about life until Scott walked in the room, his feelings both furious and sad.

Stiles sat up. "What's wrong?"

"Kira bailed on me. I need you," he said. "I've got to go to this banquet thing. She was supposed to go with me, but she begged for me to take you instead." And his eyes focused hopefully on Stiles.

"What? No. _No!_ You know how I hate those formal royal things."

"Dude, come on," Scott said. "Not you too! You can't throw me to the wolves."

"I think you and Derek are the only wolves aroun—"

"Besides, when you're my guardian, you'll have to do these things all the time."

"I know," Stiles said darkly. "I thought I could maybe enjoy my last six months of freedom."

But in the end, Scott conned Stiles into going with him like they both knew it would happen.

When they reached the banquet room, they drew a few eyes. The royals hadn't expected the McCall prince to bring his human friend to this highly anticipated, invitation-only dinner. Stiles and Scott took their places at one of the tables with some other royals. Dinner was — thankfully — amazing, and Stiles had dared to hope it wouldn't be so bad until Scott turned to him and said, "We have to mingle."

 _Mingle?_

"Come on. You're the social one," he insisted.

Yeah, in most circumstances, Stiles was the one who put himself out there and wasn't afraid to talk to people. Only, with this group, the tables were turned. Stiles didn't belong there, not with the superior race and definitely not with the royalty. Besides, most of the talks were about the woes of being filthy rich or how life at court could be exhausting, etc.

Stiles felt too uncomfortable with this group and knew his usual snarky defense mechanisms would just spoil everything. So he kept his mouth shut.

Scott drifted over to a small group of half-breeds whose voices were growing louder. A pair of red-headed twins were talking about half-breed protection. They both quickly introduced themselves as Aiden and Ethan, children of Tina Braid, the queen's friend.

"What part of 'suicide' don't you understand?" asked Aiden, resuming the discussion. "Half-breeds training as soldiers will be the end of our race."

"It's not suicide," exclaimed Ethan. "It's the right thing to do. We have to start looking out for ourselves. Learning to fight and use our magic is our greatest asset, other than the guardians."

"Yes, but with the guardians, we don't need other assets," argued Aiden. "You've been listening to non-royals, Ethan. They don't have any guardians of their own, so of course they're scared. But that's no reason to drag us down and put our lives at risk."

"Then don't," said Scott suddenly. Everyone in the little group stopped and looked at him. "When you talk about half-breeds learning how to fight, you make it sound like an all-or-nothing matter. It's not. If you don't want to fight, then you shouldn't have to. I completely understand." Aiden looked slightly mollified. "But, that's because you can rely on your guardians. A lot of half-breeds can't. And if they want to learn self-defense, there's no reason why they shouldn't do it on their own."

Ethan grinned triumphantly at his brother. "There, you see?"

"It's not that easy," countered Aiden. "If it was just a matter of you crazy people wanting to get yourselves killed, then fine. Go do it. But where are you going to learn all these so-called fighting skills?"

"We'll figure the magic out on our own," shrugged Ethan. "Guardians will teach us actual physical fighting."

"Yes, see? I knew that was where this was going, brother. Even if the rest of us don't take part in your suicide mission, you still want to strip us of our guardians to train up your pretend army."

"You owe it to us."

"No, they don't," said Scott. Intrigued gazes turned his way again.

"Guardians are the best battle resources we have," said Ethan.

"They are," Scott agreed, "but that doesn't give you the right to take them away from their duty."

Aiden practically glowed.

"Then how are we supposed to learn?" asked Ethan.

"The same way guardians do," Scott informed him. "If you want to learn to fight, go to the academies. Form classes and start at the beginning, the same way the novices do. That way, you won't be taking guardians away from active protection. It's a safe environment, and the guardians there specialize in teaching students anyway." He paused thoughtfully. "You could even start making defense part of the standard curriculum for half-breeds students already there."

Astonished stares fell on him, Stiles' included. It was such an elegant solution, and everyone else around them realized it. It gave no party 100 percent of its demands, but it met most in a way that didn't really harm the other side. _Pure genius._

Suddenly, everyone started talking at once, excited about the idea. They drew Scott in, and soon there was a passionate conversation going on about his plan. Stiles got shuffled to the edges and decided that was just fine. Then he retreated altogether and sought out a corner near a door from where he could still watch his friend.

"My little guardian," said someone from behind him. Stiles turned. "Have you thought about the things I said?"

"A little too much," he answered, eyeing Lydia. "And I haven't figured it out."

She threw her hair back graciously. She was dressed to perfection, as always. "We'll find out," she told him. She looked perfectly sane now, exhibiting no trace of the weird behavior Stiles had witnessed in his room. "Of course, we could ask for help, if you want. What about your girlfriend? Either of them."

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. He took a deep breath. "I don't have a girlfriend. Not anymore. Much less two of them."

"No?" asked Lydia, now smiling. "There's something I haven't told you." Stiles looked at her. "Partially because I wasn't sure before. Now I am. It's quite clear." Stiles waited for the explanation. Lydia leaned toward him, as if to tell him a secret. "When you're around her, the darkness diminishes."

Stiles' mouth dropped open. He didn't know how but he was sure of who she meant.

"Stiles!" His dad came his way. "Miss Martin," he nodded toward Lydia, "would you excuse us?" Then, like Stiles was five years old, his dad grabbed him by the arm and jerked him out of the room.

"Whoa," said Stiles.

"What do you think you're doing? You're not supposed to be here tonight."

"Did I rain on your parade, dad?" he teased. "Does my presence bother you that much?"

"That's not what I meant. Just... What were you doing with Lydia Martin?"

"Talking."

"It looked like you were flirting."

"I wasn't." The accusation brought out that intense anger Stiles had been feeling lately. He rubbed his eyes. Something petty occurred to him. "Besides," he said mockingly, "isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Hook up with someone and further my race? It's what you did."

His dad sighed heavily. "Don't do anything stupid, Stiles," he said. "If you want to be a guardian, you need to learn a few things, son. And you can't flirt in public. The half-breeds... they don't want to see you being human in front of them. That's not why they keep us around. They don't like to witness our, uh, _feelings_. One mistake and you're out."

Stiles groaned, mortified. "I wasn't doing anything wrong! Why are you talking to me like I'm a child?"

"Because you act like one."

Stiles glared. "So you're going to send me to my room now?"

"No, Stiles." His dad suddenly looked very tired. "You don't have to go to your room, but don't go back in there, either. Hopefully you didn't draw too much attention."

"I must have. I mean, you noticed me! That's definitely a first."

"Please," his dad said. "You have no idea how easily they'd toss us aside. You have to be careful. Your reputation comes first."

Stiles wasn't sure why, but every word made him angrier. "Yours certainly did, right, dad?" he scoffed. "Where do you get off turning fatherly all of a sudden? Just live me alone. I know what I'm doing."

He stalked off in the opposite direction, not really sure where he was going. It felt like watching a movie. He saw his body as if it wasn't his own anymore. There really was someone inside of him, someone who didn't belong. Someone who was very angry, out of control. Someone who lied a lot and enjoyed ruining Stiles' life.

 _Someone who needed to go away._

Stiles ended up onto a small rooftop deck that didn't appear to see much use. The sun shone brightly, making everything glitter. He sat down and, wrapping his arms around himself, he stared off, taking in the view and the sun he rarely got to enjoy.

He was startled when Malia sat beside him. His heart raced and he turned away, unsure what to think. He definitely couldn't handle another fight.

"The sun's out," she pointed out.

"It is."

They sat there in a comfortable silence for a while.

"My life is a disaster," Stiles finally said.

"It's not a disaster," she said automatically.

"Did you follow me from the party?"

"Yes."

"I didn't even know you were there."

"I was working."

He nodded. "So you saw the illustrious Guardian Stilinski cause a commotion by dragging me out."

"It wasn't a commotion. Hardly anyone noticed."

"You noticed."

"I was watching you."

Stiles refused to let himself get excited over that. "That's not what he said. I might as well have ruined the family name."

"He's just worried about you."

"He overreacted."

"Sometimes parents are overprotective."

He stared at her. "Yeah, but this is _my_ dad. And he didn't seem that protective, really. He was just worried I'd embarrass him or something. And all that talk about how the half-breeds would toss me aside... It's not like it's raining guardians nowadays. "

"It happens, Stiles," she said. "It's what I've been trying to tell you. To their eyes, we're killing machines. They are God's way of trying to fix the mistake he made when he created humans. They actually believe we don't have feelings and they prefer it that way. Nothing can get in the way of giving your life for them, right? I'm not saying they're wrong... They were just... taught wrong."

More silence. Stiles sighed. Okay, maybe he'd have to reevaluate his relationship with his dad. But not now — he already had too many relationships stressing him. And that weird anger that wouldn't leave his body... that made him snap at his friends...

"We aren't fighting right now," he realized.

Malia gave him a sidelong look. "Would you like if we were?"

"No. I hate fighting with you. Verbally, I mean. I don't mind in the gym."

There was a hint of a smile in her face. Always a half-smile for Stiles. Rarely a full one. "I don't like fighting with you either."

Sitting next to her there, Stiles marveled at the warm and happy emotions springing up inside of him. There was something about being around her that felt so good, that moved him. He felt it now. He remembered what Lydia had said, about how the darkness around him was fainter when Malia was present. She had power over every aspect of him.

 _That_ was love, he realized. And maybe growing up was doing whatever it took to protect the ones you loved. Even if it screwed you up completely.

"You should take it," he said and that was the most unselfish thing he had said in a long time.

Malia flinched. "What?"

"Derek's offer. You should take him up on it. It's a really great chance."

"I never expected to hear you say anything like that," she told him, voice tight. "Especially after—"

"What an asshole I've been? Yeah. Like I said, I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want us to hate each other. And... well..." he squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them. "I haven't been feeling like myself lately but... but I want you to be happy."

Silence yet again. Stiles noticed then that his chest hurt. Malia took his hand. She didn't say anything — she didn't have to. It was the first time she'd really touched him since the night of the lust charm. The practice room had been something different... more animal. This wasn't even about sex. It was just about being close to someone you cared about, about the emotion that kind of connection flooded you with.

She could run off with Derek if she wanted, but Stiles would still love her. He would probably always love her.

Stiles wished they could stay like that forever. It felt right. And — no matter how much the thought of her and Derek made him ache — doing what was best for her felt right too.

Maybe Stiles was a childish jerk. Maybe he couldn't control himself. But he was starting to understand some things.

It was time to stop being a coward and do something else that was right.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from her and stood up. Malia regarded him curiously, sensing his unease. "Where you going?" she asked.

"To break someone's heart," he replied. "And maybe mend mine."

He admired Malia for a heartbeat more — the dark, knowing eyes and silken hair — then he turned away.


	30. The Wrong Choices

Stiles couldn't find Erica anywhere. Heather, her roommate said she saw her throwing some stuff in a bag earlier before she disappeared.

Stiles' hands started to sweat. That didn't make any sense. There was nowhere to go. There was no way to go, either; This resort was tightly guarded. Worried, he decided to follow up on the possibility, crazy as it seemed, that she had simply left. He went to see the guardian on duty at the gate. There was only one right now because it was daylight.

"Sure, I saw her," he said, his eyes unfocused.

Relief flooded over Stiles. "Do you know where she is?"

"Nope. Let her and Liam Dunbar and... What's his name? Boyd? Out through the north gate and didn't see them after that."

Stiles stared open-mouthed. "You let Erica and Boyd... and Liam out?"

"Yup."

"May I ask why?"

The guardian tried to focus on Stiles, a kind of happy and bemused look on his face. "Because they asked me."

An icy feeling started creeping through Stiles. The guardian had let Erica, Boyd, and Liam out, no questions asked. And he didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with that. He appeared almost... _dazed_.

Quickly, Stiles went through all the possibilities in his head. How could that have happened? The only way to convince that guardian to let them leave would be to use a spell or something. But none of them could've done that! A Fairy could easily throw some pixie-dust in the guy and make him believe anything. And... And a Siren could've lure the guardian to agree with whatever she said. But again, none of them could've—

 _Oh, shit._

Sirens were beautiful but dangerous creatures that lured the sailors with their beautiful voices to their doom. That's what the textbook said. It also said Sirens came from an order of water users, called Sirenia, which included not only Sirens, but Mermaids _and_ Undines. Stiles didn't know much about biology, but he was fairly sure an order was a hierarchical level used to classify living beings from families contained by species that had a high degree of morpho-functional similarities. Or something.

All three of them most likely grew fins whenever they wanted and that was enough for Stiles.

He wasn't the fainting type, but for just a moment, he felt like he could keel over. The world spun, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath: he needed to think. He would reason this out.

Erica, Boyd, and Liam had left using magic — which was forbidden. They hadn't told anyone. They'd left through the north gate which connected to the only semi-major road in the area, a small highway that led to a little town about twelve miles away. The town Erica had mentioned that had buses.

 _To Spokane._

Where this traveling pack of Vampires might be living.

Where Erica could fulfill all her crazy dreams of slaying a Vampire.

Spokane; which she only knew about _because_ of Stiles.

"No, no, no," he murmured to himself, almost running toward his room. He started packing his own bag until something made him stop.

 _What was he doing?_ He was acting without thinking. He needed to tell someone. But that would get them in a lot of trouble. It would also tip Malia off that Stiles had gone and gossiped about the Spokane information. And it could ruin her!

Stiles looked at his shaky hands. No, he couldn't tell anyone. He couldn't do this to Malia. But he couldn't run off alone either...

A few minutes later, he found himself knocking on Kira's door. Hastily, he relayed the details of what was going on. Even Kira didn't have a witty response for that one.

"So... they went to Spokane to hunt Vampires? _Holy shit._ Why didn't you go with them? Seems like something you'd do."

Stiles resisted the urge to hit a girl. "Because I'm not insane! But I'm going to go get them before they do something even stupider."

That was when she caught on. "And what do you need from me?"

"You're actually not gonna like it..." he started. Kira raised an eyebrow. "I need you to electrocute the guardian on duty until he passes out. But you have to be careful enough not to kill him. I know you've practiced it."

"I have," she agreed. "But... well... I'm not very good at it yet. And doing it on humans is way more dangerous... his heart could stop and..."

"I know."

Kira considered. "Let's say I agree. What about Scott?"

"He's not going," Stiles said fiercely. "He can't get in trouble over this. Not him."

She snorted. "But I can?"

"I know for a fact you don't give a crap."

"You're a piece of work, you know that?"

"Yeah. I do, actually."

She shook her head but five minutes later they found themselves trekking out to the north gate.

 _Stupid, stupid,_ Stiles kept thinking. They were going to be in so much trouble. Why had Erica done this? Stiles knew she'd had this whole crazy vigilante attitude... and she'd certainly seemed upset that the guardians hadn't done anything about the recent attack. _But come on!_ Was she really that unhinged? Was it possible — was it possible Stiles had upset her so much that she'd gone off the deep end? But why would she take Liam and Boyd with her if it was a suicide mission?

Yet, out of all the questions he had about this, one thing was definitely clear: _it was all his fault._ If he wasn't such a brat, none of this would've happened.

The guy on duty didn't seem particularly alarmed about seeing him again. "What you kids need now?"

Kira swallowed and raised her hand. Stiles could see the lines of tension on her face. She moved her hand ever so slightly and the guardian collapsed on the floor twisting his entire body. She kept that up until his eyes rolled backwards.

"Stop!" Stiles shouted. "Now, Kira, stop!"

She obeyed. The guardian's body convulsed a few more times then went perfectly still. "Is... is he...?"

Stiles knelt down and grabbed the guardian's wrist. Thankfully, there was a pulse, even if faint. "He's alive."

Kira sighed with relief.

Stiles stepped forward. "Thanks for your help. You should head back before the next shift comes on."

She shook her head and grimaced. "No, I'm going with you on this."

"No," he argued. "I only needed you to get through the gate. You don't have to get in trouble over this."

"I'm already in trouble!" She pointed at the guardian. "He saw my face. I'm screwed either way, so I might as well help you save the day. Besides, Scott won't forgive me if he knows I let you go off by yourself."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles allowed her to tag alone. Another irresponsible choice he'd probably have to answer for later.

Luckily, after only about five minutes of walking down the highway, they managed to catch a ride. Fifteen minutes later, they were dropped off at a gas station and then went to buy bus tickets to Spokane.

They didn't talk. Kira slept the rest of the way to Spokane, but Stiles couldn't. He just kept thinking over and over that this was his fault. It was late afternoon by the time they reached Spokane and it took even longer for them to find the shopping center. On the way, Stiles felt a tug into Scott's head.

"I know you want to protect them, but we need to know where they are."

Scott sat on the bed while Malia and Stiles' dad stared him down. It was Malia who had spoken. Seeing her through his eyes was interesting. He had a fond respect for her, very different from the intense roller coaster of emotions Stiles always experienced.

"I told you," said Scott, "I don't know anything. I don't know what happened." Frustration and fear for them burned through Scott. It saddened Stiles to see him so anxious, but at the same time, he was glad he hadn't gotten his friend involved.

"I can't believe they wouldn't have told you where they were going," said Guardian Stilinski; there were lines of worry on his face. "Especially with your... uh, bond."

"It only works one way," said Scott sadly. "You know that."

Malia reached out for Scott's hand. "Are you sure? There's nothing at all you can tell us? They're nowhere in town. We need something... Anything, Scott."

Scott gave her hand a little press. "Don't you think if I knew, I'd tell you? I'm worried too. I have no idea where they are. None. And why'd they even leave... it doesn't make any sense either. Especially why they'd go with Liam, of all people." A twinge of hurt flickered through the bond, hurt at being left out.

Malia believed him. Seeing her so concerned almost ate up Stiles' heart.

"Stiles?" Kira's voice brought him back. "We're here, I think. How do we find them?"

Stiles shrugged. "Maybe if we act like Vampires, they'll try to stake us."

A small, reluctant smile played over Kira's face. They both went inside the mall and started looking. They walked the length of it twice and saw no signs of their friends.

"Maybe we're in the wrong place," he finally said.

"Or maybe they are," she suggested. "They could have gone to some other— wait." She pointed, and Stiles followed the gesture. The three renegades sat at a table in the middle of the food court, looking dejected. They looked so miserable, Stiles almost felt sorry for them. "I'd kill for a camera right now," said Kira, smirking.

"This isn't funny," Stiles told her, striding toward the group. Inside, he breathed a sigh of relief. They didn't notice him until he was almost right next to them.

Boyd's head jerked up. "Stiles? What are you doing here?"

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FREAKING MIND?" he yelled. A few people nearby gave them surprised looks. "Do you know how much trouble you're in? How much trouble you've gotten us in?"

"How the hell did you find us?" asked Erica in a low voice.

"Forgive me, but you guys aren't exactly criminal masterminds," Stiles told them. "It was pretty obvious you'd want to go off on your pointless Vampire-hunting quest."

"It isn't pointless," said Liam.

"Oh?" Stiles demanded. "Did you kill any Vampire? Did you even find any?"

"No," admitted Boyd.

"Good," Stiles said. "You got lucky."

"Why are you so against killing Cold Ones?" asked Liam hotly. "Isn't that what you train for?"

"I train for sane missions, not childish stunts like this."

"It isn't childish," he cried. "They killed my parents! And the guardians weren't doing anything. Even their information is bad. There weren't any Vampires in the tunnels. Probably none in the whole city."

Kira looked impressed. "You found the tunnels?"

"Yeah," said Boyd. "But like Liam said, they were useless."

"We should see them before we go," Kira told Stiles. "It'd be kind of cool, and if the data was bad, there's no danger."

 _"No!"_ Stiles snapped. "We're going home. Right now."

Erica narrowed her cat-like eyes. "We're going to search the city again. Even you can't make us go back, Stilinski."

"But the school's guardians can when I call and tell them you're here."

The three of them looked at Stiles like he had just simultaneously gut-punched them all.

"You'd really do that?" asked Erica. "You'd sell us out like that?"

Stiles rubbed his eyes, wondering desperately why he was trying to be the voice of reason here. Where was the guy who'd run away from school? Erica had been right. He _was_ turning into Malia.

"This isn't about selling anyone out. This is about keeping you guys alive."

"You think we're that defenseless?" asked Liam. "You think we'd get killed right away?"

"Yes," Stiles said. "Unless you've found some way to use water as a weapon?"

Liam blushed. "I compelled the guards to let us leave."

"And I congratulate you for that. Nice new talent, little mermaid. What do you want, a biscuit?"

"We brought silver stakes," said Boyd with a shrug.

 _Oh, fantastic._

Stiles looked at Erica pleadingly. "E... Come on. Call this off. Let's go back."

She looked at him for a long time. Finally, she sighed. "Okay."

Boyd and Liam looked aghast, but Erica had assumed a leadership role with them, and they didn't have the initiative to go on without her. Kira was still excited about the idea of the underground tunnels. Considering she spent all her time in an attic, Stiles shouldn't have been all that surprised.

"I saw the schedule," she told him. "We've got a while before the next bus."

Stiles tried to make them listen. "We can't go walking into some Vampire lair!"

"There are no Vampires there," said Erica. "It's seriously all janitorial stuff. There was no sign of anything weird. Tate obviously had bad information."

"Stiles," whined Kira, "let's get something fun out of this!"

They all looked at him.

And that's when Stiles made yet another stupid choice that'd bring him terrible consequences later: "Okay, fine. Just a peek, though."


	31. The Basement

The tunnels were as boring as they sounded. It wasn't so much a tunnel as a narrow corridor; the passage went off to their left and right.

Kira pointed in each direction. "What's down there?"

"Nothing," sighed Liam. "C'mon. We'll show you."

They walked down to the right and passed some black writing on one of the walls that caught Stiles' attention. It was a list of letters that went from up to down and some of them had 'x' marks next to them:

M — M — Y — H — A — R — B — M — W — T — R — D.

"It's probably a janitor thing," Liam said, noticing Stiles' interest. "Or maybe some gang did it."

Stiles couldn't move. The others shifted restlessly, not understanding his fascination with the jumble of letters. But Stiles understood it alright.

The first letter of every royal half-breed family's name was there. There were three M names, but they went in the order of the royal succession. It started with the Martins, then the McCalls, Yukimura, Hale, Argent, Reaken, Braid, Mahealani, Whittaker, Talbot, Romero and Donati. Stiles immediately realized that the ones with the x marks were the ones that had been attacked.

He stepped back from the wall bumping into Liam. "We have to get out of here." His voice sounded scared even to himself.

The others looked at him in surprise. "Why?" asked Boyd. "What's going on?"

"Move!"

Erica pointed in the direction they'd been heading. "This lets out a few blocks away. It's closer to the station."

Stiles peered down into the dark unknown. "No," he said. "We're going back! Right now!"

They all looked at him like he was insane as they retraced their steps, but nobody questioned him. He was only able to breathe again when they stepped outside the mall into the sunlight.

In the end, there really were Vampires in Spokane. And Stiles certainly couldn't tell the others that or they were likely to go back into the tunnels.

Most of their walk back to the station proceeded in silence. Stiles emotions swirled, oscillating between anger and guilt. Then they all stopped and realized they were lost.

"Damn it!" Stiles exclaimed. "Didn't anyone keep track of which way we went?" It was an unfair question since he clearly hadn't paid attention either, but his temper had pushed him past reason.

"This way," said Erica.

They walked down a narrow street between two buildings. They hadn't gone very far when Stiles heard the sound of an engine and squealing tires. Liam was walking in the middle of the road, and protective conditioning kicked inside of Stiles. He grabbed Liam and jerked him out of the street and up against one of the building walls. The others had done the same.

A large, gray van headed in their direction. They pressed flat against the wall, waiting for it to go past.

Only it didn't.

Screeching to a halt, it stopped right in front of them, and the doors slid open. Three big guys spilled out, and again, Stiles' instincts kicked in. One of them moved toward Kira, and Stiles struck out and punched him. The guy barely staggered then moved toward Stiles. In his peripheral vision, Stiles saw Erica and Boyd squaring off with the other two. Liam and Kira stood there, frozen.

The guy who'd been sparring with Erica grabbed Liam, lifted a gun and pressed it against Liam's neck. Backing off from his own adversary, Stiles yelled at Boyd to stop.

Stiles wanted to hit everyone he could set his hands on, but he couldn't risk the life of a half-breed, no matter what. And the guy knew it, too. He didn't even have to make the threat. He was human; he knew they'd go out of their way to protect the half-breeds.

"What do you want?" Stiles asked harshly.

The guy inclined his head toward the van's open door. "All of you. Inside. And don't start anything. Vows don't stop me from hurting half-breeds."

Stiles looked at Liam, the van, his other friends, and then back to the guy.

Shit. He didn't even like Liam! And how he hated being powerless and going down without a fight...

For the first time ever, he went quietly. And it almost drove him crazy. The instinct to protect the half-breeds was so deeply ingrained in him that Stiles couldn't even pause to worry about himself. Kira and Liam were the focus. They were the ones Stiles had to get out of this mess.

Okay, he needed to think. _Who were these guys?_ They were human, definitely guardians, but they didn't care about half-breeds. That wasn't a random kidnapping. They had been targeted for a reason. But the idea of guardians helping Vampires made Stiles sick. It was so against everything Stiles knew. Against everything he was.

Their captors made no attempts to blindfold them, which Stiles didn't take as a good sign. It said: _it doesn't matter what you see, you'll die anyway._ Stiles didn't even bother looking out the window; Spokane was as dull as he'd imagined.

They pulled inside a garage, and the men ushered them into a house, to a room with a large, saltwater fish tank. Swords crossed over the fireplace. Then they were led down a narrow flight of stairs, down to a basement as large as the floor above. The furniture consisted of several chains hanging from the ceiling — chains that were used to tie their hands. Stiles stood there, struggling to keep his tiptoes on the ground, his arms painfully raised.

One guy — the leader — watched carefully as one of his henchmen bound Boyd's hands with the chains.

"These are the ones you especially have to watch," he warned, nodding toward the three novices. "They'll fight back. The half-breeds won't be able to use their magic. See, their power is in their hands; when you raise their arms like that, threatening to dislocate their shoulders, each and every movement will be agonizing, especially one that includes magic."

Yeah, Stiles' shoulders were indeed starting to protest.

The guy barked out a few more orders to the others and then left the room, shutting the door loudly behind him.

Silence fell.

After several minutes, Liam whimpered. He was the shortest among the group and Stiles doubted his feet were touching the ground. "What are you going to—"

"Shut up," growled one of the men.

Stiles' mind was racing. He wondered why they were still alive at all. _What did they want? Why were they here?_ Over and over, Stiles imagined awful, gruesome fates.

The smell of sweat and fear filled the room.

Soon, Stiles lost track of time and was suddenly jolted out of his imaginings when the lead captor stepped into the hall. "They're in here, just like you wanted."

Finally, the person behind their kidnapping appeared. Something inside of Stiles' shriveled up. His throat went dry. His heart wanted to stop. Two real Vampires were there. Everything they'd feared was coming true: not only they were going to die, but Vampires really did have humans working for them.

 _This changed everything._

 _Daylight wasn't safe anymore._

 _None of them were safe anymore._

Bile rose in Stiles' throat.

One of the Vampires was shorter than the other and had brown hair. Just looking at him reminded Stiles so much of Kate he came to the conclusion this was a new Vampire, just turned. The short one still had a little life in him whilst the other one... his was the face of death.

Completely devoid of any sort of warmth or gentler emotion. His expression was cold and calculating, laced with malicious amusement. Shoulder-length black hair framed his face.

One of the guards shoved Stiles hard. He glanced up at the old Vampire. "You want me to make him stop?"

Stiles suddenly realized he'd been twisting and turning in his chains making a hell of a noise and unconsciously trying to get as far away from the Vampires as possible.

"No," the Vampire grinned. "Let him. In a few minutes, he won't be able to feel his arms anymore."

Stiles swallowed. It was true... his fingers were already numb.

"Reddick," exclaimed the younger Vampire. "Why are you keeping them here? Why haven't you just contacted the others?"

"Unger, Unger," Reddick murmured to him. "Behave yourself. I'm not going to pass up the chance to enjoy myself with two half-breeds and three novices."

Strolling over to Liam and Kira, Reddick studied them. Kira's fear was palpable, but she managed to return the Vampire's scrutiny. Reddick got real close to her and — no kidding — smelled her.

"I'd know this scent anywhere," he said. "Hale. Yukimura."

Unger seemed surprised. "Really?"

"The age is right," said Reddick. "And she looks just like Noshiko. Yes, I knew your parents. Great people. Unparalleled. Their deaths were a shame... but, well... I daresay they brought that on themselves. I told them they shouldn't have gone back for you. They had no intention of turning you anyway. They were just going to just keep you around and protect you from all that political nonsense. I warned them that that would be a disaster, but..." He gave a delicate shrug. "They wouldn't listen, and disaster met them."

Hatred, deep and dark, boiled behind Kira's eyes.

"It's quite touching that you should find your way to me after all this time. Perhaps I can do what they didn't have the guts to."

"Reddick," said Unger again. Every word out of his mouth seemed like a whine. "Call the others—"

"Stop giving me orders!" Reddick grabbed Unger shoulder and shoved him away, knocking him across the room and almost through the wall.

Terror filled Unger's features. Vampires were known to turn against each other. Reddick would rip Unger's head off if given a reason to. "I—I'm sorry, Reddick."

"You clearly have opinions here, Unger, and I welcome you voicing them in a civilized manner. What do you think we should do with these cubs?"

"You should—that is, I _think_ we should just take them now. Especially the half-breeds. Unless... you aren't going to throw another dinner party, are you? It's a complete waste. We'll have to share, and you know the others won't be grateful. They never are."

"No dinner party," Reddick declared loftily. "But I'm not killing them yet. You're young, Unger. You only think about immediate gratification. When you're as old as me, you won't be so impatient." Reddick swept his gaze over the novices. "You three, I'm afraid, are going to die. There's no avoiding it. You do have a choice in how you die, however, and that will be dictated by your behavior." Reddick eyes lingered on Stiles. "Some of you will die more painfully than others." Then Reddick faced Liam and Kira. "Now, between the two of you... You can also choose. Only one of you will die. The other will live on in glorious immortality."

Stiles choked on a laugh that sounded more like a whimper. Reddick stared at him. Stiles' heart raced. His fear shamed him. He wanted to be like Malia. He wanted to be like his father.

"As I was saying," continued Reddick, "one of you will be awakened and live forever. But you must choose to be awakened willingly. And the one who decides first, is the only one who'll walk out of here alive."

"Not likely," said Kira. She packed as much snarky defiance as she could manage into those two words.

"Ah, how I love the Kitsune spirit," mused Reddick. He glanced at Liam, his red eyes gleaming. "But don't let her upstage you, boy. There's strength in common blood, too. And here's how it will be decided: to live, all you have to do is kill one of the little humans. That's it. Not unpleasant at all. After all, we're the superior race. Yes, I am a half-breed as well as you, don't you forget it. Just tell one of these gentlemen here you want to do it. Whoever does this first walks free. The other will be dinner."

Silence hung in the room.

"No," said Kira. "No one's killing anybody."

Reddick waved a dismissive hand. "Easy to be brave now, girl. But in a while your arms will hurt so bad you'll want to chop them off. And the hunger... Yes, with every second, more and more, you're gonna _want_ to kill them."


	32. The Kitsune

Kira scowled.

"There's nothing to it, little fox. Let me show you." Reddick walked over to Boyd.

Stiles realized what he was going to do. "Use me," he blurted out. "Don't hurt him. Do what you have to do to me and leave the rest of them alone."

"Stiles!" cried Erica.

Stiles looked beseechingly at Reddick. He was feeling so sick. But he'd rather Reddick take pints from him before he touched Erica or Boyd.

Reddick, however, in one fast movement, grabbed Boyd, tilted his head and bit his neck. Stiles pulled against his chains so hard that they dug painfully into his skin and one of his shoulders made a faint cracking sound.

Stiles looked away. He didn't want to see this. He heard Boyd emit a soft moan: the endorphin in the Vampire bite actually made it pleasant to its victims.

Stiles wanted to scream, but his voice was gone. His eyes flicked around the room, searching for exits, but there were none. Just blank, bare white walls. No windows. The one precious door, always guarded. Stiles was helpless. And what kind of guardian would he be if he couldn't protect his friends?

He glanced back at Reddick. Blood dripped from his lips, and he ran his tongue across them. The others stared wide-eyed. Boyd gazed off in a happy, drugged haze.

After almost twenty-four hours, their situation hadn't really changed. They were still prisoners, still securely bound. Their captors stayed vigilant, almost as efficient as any group of guardians.

They didn't get to go to the bathroom. The men gave them no food or water. Stiles could handle being uncomfortable, but he was fast reaching a point where he would have killed for a cheeseburger.

For Liam and Kira... well, things were a little harder. They weren't used to this sort of hardships. Their endurance soon dropped through the floor. Stiles was hungry, but Liam and Kira were ravenous. Already, their faces looked gaunt, their eyes almost feverish.

The only one who looked totally cool with the entire thing was Boyd. Each time Reddick would come down he'd also, before leaving, take another drink from Boyd. By the third visit, between the endorphins and lack of food, Stiles was pretty sure Boyd didn't even know where they were anymore.

Starvation and exhaustion made Stiles pass out a few times. And in one of these events, something amazing happened: _he had a dream._

He stood on a beach where he had all the light and warmth he could want. Lydia was there wearing a red bathing suit, a large hat and sunglasses.

"My little guardian," she said. "It's about time."

"It's this my dream or your dream?" asked Stiles.

"It's our dream."

Stiles wiggled his toes in the sand. "I still don't get how can two people share a dream?"

"People share dreams all the time, Stiles," she told him. "But that's not why I'm here." Lydia stepped forward and touched his face. "Where are you?"

"Here," Stiles said, puzzled. "With you."

Lydia shook her head. "No, Stiles. _Where are you?"_

Then he understood. Images came to him. Chains. Guards. Pain.

"In a basement..." he muttered. "Oh God, Lydia. You've got to help them! I can't—I can't save them!"

Lydia grabbed his shaking hands. "Where, Stiles?" The world shimmered and the dream began to disintegrate. Lydia swore. "Where are you?" She began to vanish.

"A basement! In a house! In—"

Stiles woke up. The sound of the room's door opening startled him back to reality.

Reddick swept in with Unger in tow. "Hello, children," he said. "How are we doing today?" Sullen glares answered him. "Any changes of heart since my last visit? You're taking an awfully long time, and it's upsetting Unger. He's hungry, you see, but — I suspect not as hungry as you."

Kira narrowed her eyes. "Fuck off!"

Reddick smiled. "No problem. I can wait. Honestly, I can't decide which I want more: to kill you or have you join us. Either option offers its own amusements."

"Don't you get tired of hearing yourself talk?" asked Kira. "Listening to you is the worst part of my day. And I'm chained to the ceiling."

Reddick considered. "No. Not really. And I don't get tired of this, either." He turned around and walked toward Boyd. Poor Boyd was barely conscious anymore.

Anger and disgust flooded through Stiles. "God damn it!" he yelled. "Leave him alone!"

Reddick glanced back at him. "Be silent or you'll be next."

"Yeah? Can't wait!"

"No!" exclaimed Erica. "Bite me!"

Reddick rolled his eyes. "Good God. What a noble lot. You're all Spartacus, aren't you?" He looked at Erica. "But you, pretty girl, you lie. You only offer because of him." Reddick approached Stiles. "And you... I didn't really believe you at first either. But now I think you really mean it. And it's not nobility, either. It's the Trickster inside of you. It wants you to feel pain."

Stiles had no idea what he was talking about, but something moved deep, deep inside of him. Reddick leaned toward him. "I can smell him on you. Unfortunately, I'm not here to please wicked spirits." He backed away, and returned to Boyd and drank. Then he left.

Stiles spent hours thinking about that Trickster story. It sounded important. It brought something up. It was true without being. It made sense though he couldn't understand it.

Eventually, he ended up in Scott's head — it felt like a homecoming.

Scott sat on the floor beside Lydia. "So, they finally let you go?" she asked him.

"Yeah. They finally decided I really don't know anything."

"And you're sure you don't?"

Scott sighed. "I already told you that. I can't make the bond work that way."

"But Scott," she said softly, "you've got no choice."

Scott glared. "What, you think I'm holding back? If I could do anything to find Stiles, I would!"

"I know," said Lydia. "But to have a bond at all... You must have a strong connection. And... well, everything we know about the world came from our ancestors, right?" Scott nodded. "But who's to say they knew everything? They could've been wrong about a lot of things. One exemple is the psychic bond, so rare, so complicated, working only one way."

"I'm not sure I get it."

"Oh, Scott, it isn't hard!" she exclaimed. "Isn't it convenient that they convinced our guardians they don't matter, only we do? They can't have feelings, only we can? Well, just so happens that our guardians are _more_ human than we are! I say they have a lot of feelings, they just keep it to themselves."

Scott looked at her with wide eyes. "You're saying... you're saying I can't make the bond work because I don't appreciate Stiles' feelings?"

"No, you gay lord," she shook her head. "I'm saying maybe our ancestors thought the bond couldn't work because they didn't believe the guardians' feelings mattered! They were only concern about their own safety. They wanted the guardians to know they were in danger, just by feeling it. And they never tried to make it work the other way, because they never cared!"

Stiles shared Scott's astonishment. How hadn't they ever thought of that? I mean, the idea of Scott being able to get inside his head made Stiles uneasy, but right now they could definitely use that. Only Scott could barely even grasp the idea. He ran a hand through his hair and tipped his head back.

"Okay," he decided. "I'll do anything to find him. But... how do I do it?"

Lydia smiled. "I guess you're gonna have to break the most basic rule of our existence, McCall. Tell yourself the words no half-breed ever spoke."

"Which are?"

" _'I don't matter. Only my guardian does.'_ "

Stiles pulled out of Scott's head and returned to his own grim situation. His head was spinning. He was starstruck by what Lydia had said. He'd never heard those words before. It made no sense. It wasn't right. And she shouldn't be putting Scott in that situation.

Stiles really needed a plan now. He needed to save his friends and stop Scott from doing something crazy.

They had three guards today, who looked a little bored but not enough to slack off. Nearby, Boyd appeared unconscious. Erica stared blankly at the floor. Kira had that there-is-nothing-on-the-telly look, and Liam seemed to be sleeping. Painfully aware of how dry his throat was, Stiles almost laughed in recalling how he'd told Liam water magic was useless. It might not do much in a fight, but Stiles would have given anything for him to summon up some—

A plan slowly coalesced in Stiles' mind — a plan that was probably insane. His heart thudded with anticipation. He stared at Kira until she caught his eye. He silently tried to show her he'd had an idea. She watched him curiously. Stiles needed her help, but he had no real way of letting her know what he had in mind. There was confusion on her face, but it was paired with determination.

"Hey," Stiles said loudly. Liam and Erica both jerked in surprise. "Are you guys really going to keep starving us? Can't we at least have some water or something?"

"Shut up," said one of the guards.

"Come on, man. Not even like a sip of something? I'm dying here. My body will go into _shock_." His gaze flicked to Kira as he said that. If she couldn't take the hint, there was nothing else to be done for it.

"Be quiet," growled the guard.

Stiles looked at Kira again and made a slight movement with his chains. _Come on, come on. Put it together._

Her eyebrows suddenly shot up, and she stared at him in amazement. Well. Now just rested the hope they were thinking the same thing.

"Let me out," she said. Everyone jumped again.

"Shut up," said one of the guards automatically.

"No," said Kira. "I'm ready. I'll kill them. Just, please, let me out."

Everyone in the room froze for the space of a few heartbeats, including Stiles. That wasn't the plan — at all.

The guards' leader stood up. "Don't screw around with us."

"I'm not," she said weakly, with a feverish, desperate look on her face. "I'm so, so tired. I want to get out of here, and I don't want to die. I don't want to be in pain anymore. Please... I'll do anything."

Liam's mouth dropped open. Erica called Kira something offensive.

 _No! No!_ This was definitely not the plan!

The other two guards looked to their leader questioningly. "Should we get Reddick?" asked one of them.

"I don't think he's here," said the leader. He studied Kira for a few seconds and then made a decision. "Let her go."

One of the men produced a bunch of keys. He moved behind Kira and release her hands. She immediately fell to the ground, moaning as she tried to regain movement in her arms. The guard jerked her upright. "Choose one."

Kira was still trying to work her shoulders when she said, "Stiles."

"Yukimura," exclaimed Erica, fury filling her voice. She struggled against her constraints. "Are you out of your mind? Don't you dare touch him!"

"You guys have to die, but I don't," snapped Kira, tossing black hair out of her eyes. "Besides, I never liked Stiles anyway."

Stiles didn't really know what was going on now, but he decided to play along. "Kira," he whispered when she got closer, surprised at how easy it was to sound afraid. "Don't do this."

Her lips twisted into one of the bitter smiles she produced so well. "I didn't like you before, Stiles, but truth be told... recently you've been crossing the line. You yell and act like a little bitch every opportunity you have. Your mood swings make me want to punch you in the face. Honestly, I think everyone here has noticed the way you're acting out. And it's infuriating. So if I've got to kill someone to save my life, I'm happy it'll be you." Her words were icy, precise. Believable. "Besides, the Trickster wants you to feel pain, right?"

"Please," Stiles whispered. "Don't."

One of the guards handed Kira a small knife; one she could use to kill Stiles but wouldn't really do much harm if used against them. "Get it over with."

Still wearing that dark smile, Kira raised the knife. "You're going to die anyway, Stiles. Why not do it to save someone who deserves to live?"


	33. The Undine

Okay, so Kira was excellent until the part where she passed out.

She held that small knife to Stiles' chest while the others watched open-mouthed. Then her eyes turned pure yellow and ecstatic frizzled her hair. Bright orange energy burst from her, and the Thunder Kitsune almost blinded everyone. The naked lamp on the ceiling exploded and the three guards, eyes smoking, were electrocuted to death.

The half-breed anti-magic custom was so instilled in their brains that they didn't even see it coming, never considered a half-breed would attack.

Just then, Kira fell down too.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Erica with tears in her eyes. "I really thought she was going to kill you!"

Stiles stared at Kira. She'd done some pretty major magic for someone who'd been starved for two days. Which was awesome. Only how were they going to get out of these chains without her?

"What do we do?" asked Liam.

 _Oh, hell to it all_

Ignoring the burning in his arms, Stiles tried to move his hands. He grabbed the chains that held him and, breathing heavily, gave a boost raising his legs up to the ceiling. His shoulder — the one he'd most likely dislocated — hurt like a motherfucker. Stiles had never felt anything so painful in his life, and he'd been through some shit. Passing out was rapidly becoming a very real possibility. Firming his feet on the basement ceiling, he swallowed his pain and pulled the chains down with everything he had.

It took a while and a lot of strength — strength Stiles didn't know he had — but eventually the chains bolted from the ceiling and Stiles fell hard on his back. He tried to move and winced. Everything hurt. Escaping was getting harder and harder. He slowly came to a sitting position and decided to check his left shoulder: the skin was purplish. Not good.

He got up, moaning a whole lot. The room was quiet. Stiles took the set of keys from one of the bodies and went to free his friends. Once everyone was free, they managed to get Kira up, and the five of them huddled together and planned their next move. Kira and Boyd were both awake now, but they could barely stand.

"That guy's watch says it's morning," Erica said. "All we've got to do is get outside, and the Vamps can't touch us."

"They said Reddick was gone," said Liam in a small voice. "We should just be able to leave, right?"

"Those men haven't left in hours," said Stiles. "They could be wrong. We can't do anything stupid." Malia's words echoed in his brain: _You should never walk into any situation without knowing all the details._ "But we've got to go upstairs," he said.

Erica caught hold of his hand. "Stiles..." He looked at her. Her cat-like eyes looked at him regretfully. "I really screwed things up."

Stiles made her let go of him. " _We_ screwed things up, E."

She sighed. "I hope... I hope when this is all done, we can sit down and talk and figure things out. I shouldn't have gotten mad at you."

He recalled that the last thing he'd planned was to tell her things wouldn't be better between them, but it was hardly the time for that. "Yeah. I hope so too."

Erica smiled, and they returned to the others.

"All right," Stiles told them. "Here's how it's going to be," he said grabbing the guard's gun. They quickly hashed out a plan and then crept up the stairs. Stiles led, followed by Liam as he tried to support a reluctant Kira. Erica brought up the rear, practically dragging Boyd.

Calm and controlled, Stiles place a hand on the doorknob. He thought of his father. His friends needed a leader and Stiles tried to channel him.

"If something happens, you get them out of here," he told Erica. "Run fast and run far. Don't come back without a herd of guardians."

"You want me to leave you behind?" she hissed.

"Yes. They come first, E. Remember?"

"Stiles, I'm not going to—"

"E." He again envisioned his dad, fighting for that strength and power to lead others. "Can you do this or not?"

They stared at each other for several heavy moments while the others held their breaths.

"I can do it," she decided.

The basement door squeaked when he opened it, and Stiles grimaced at the sound. Scarcely daring to breathe, he stood perfectly still at the top of the stairs, waiting and listening. The house looked the same. Dark blinds covered all of the windows, but along the edges, bright light peeped in.

There were no sounds, no movements. Looking around, Stiles tried to remember where the front door was. He did a quick sweep of the main living area. Nothing. The path was clear from here to the front door.

They moved forward, all of them tense and nervous. God. _They were going to do this,_ Stiles realized. _They were really going to do this._ They were going to get out of this alive. They were—

Stiles heard them move almost at the same time he saw them step in front of them. It was like a magician had conjured Reddick and Unger out of thin air. Vampires moved that quickly.

Stiles raged at himself internally for not having checked out every inch of the whole floor. In the back of his memory, he heard himself taunting his dad: _"It seems to me like you guys messed up. Why didn't you scope out the place and make sure it was clear of Vampires in the first place? Seems like you could have saved yourself a lot of trouble."_

Karma was a real bitch.

"Children," crooned Reddick. "This isn't how the game works. You're breaking the rules." A cruel smile played over his lips. He found them amusing, no real threat at all.

"Fast and far, E," Stiles said in low voice, never taking his eyes off the Cold Ones.

"My, my, if looks could kill..." Reddick arched his eyebrows. "Are you thinking you can take us both on by yourself?" He and Unger chuckled. "Don't let the Trickster put ideas in your little head."

No, Stiles didn't think he could take them both on. In fact, he was pretty sure he wouldn't get out of that house, that he'd die in Spokane of all places. But he was also pretty sure he could provide one hell of a distraction first.

Stiles lunged toward Reddick but pulled the gun on Unger. They saw him coming practically before he even moved. They didn't expect him to have a gun, though. And while Reddick blocked his attacking body with almost no effort whatsoever, Stiles still managed to get a shot off at Unger before Reddick seized his arms and restrained him. The gun's report rang loud and Unger screamed in pain and surprise. Stiles had hit his thigh. Not that it mattered. That wouldn't kill him.

Reddick held his wrists so hard, Stiles thought he'd break the bones. Stiles dropped the gun. It hit the floor, bounced, and slid toward the door. Unger shrieked in rage and clawed at Stiles. Reddick told him to control himself and pushed Stiles out of reach. The pain in Stiles' shoulder made him see stars.

And then the sweetest of sounds: the front door opening.

Erica had taken advantage of the distraction. She'd left Boyd with Liam and sprinted around to open the door. Reddick turned with that lightning-fast speed of his and — screamed as sunlight poured over him. But even though he was suffering, his reflexes were still fast. Before Stiles could follow his friends, Reddick grabbed him by the neck.

"Get them out!" Stiles yelled.

Reddick shoved Stiles to the floor and spun around, staring at his escaping victims. Erica dragged Boyd over the threshold, out into the safety of the light. Liam and Kira were already gone. Stiles nearly wept in relief.

Reddick turned back on him with all the fury of a storm, his eyes black and terrible as he loomed over Stiles from his great height. "Now, I'll make you pay. I will make sure you are suffering the worst pain of your life. And I will also make sure your death takes a very, very long time. In the end, you will beg me to—"

"Reddick," shouted Unger in exasperation. "Just kill him already. If you'd done it sooner like I said, none of this would have happened."

"Don't interrupt me!"

"You're being melodramatic," Unger continued. "And wasteful."

"Shut up!"

"I'm hungry!"

"How about you both shut the hell up?" They all turned at the new voice, dark and angry. Erica stood in the doorway, framed in light, holding the dropped gun.

Reddick studied her for a few moments. He opened his mouth to speak but Erica didn't hesitate. She fired and kept firing until she'd emptied the entire clip into Reddick's chest. Each bullet made the Cold One flinch a little, but otherwise, he kept standing and holding on to Stiles. Erica threw down the gun.

She was still safe though, still in the sunlight. And that's how he hoped she'd stay.

"Get out!" Stiles said.

 _But she didn't listen, did she?_

Erica ran toward them, out of her protective light. Stiles redoubled his struggles, hoping he'd pull Reddick's attention away from Erica. Reddick shoved Stiles into Unger then blocked and seized hold of Erica. Only he didn't restrain her arms or rambled threats about an agonizing death. Reddick simply stopped the attack, grabbed Erica's head with both hands, and gave a quick twist. There was a sickening crack. Her cat-like eyes went wide. Then they went blank.

With an impatient sigh, Reddick released his hold and let Erica's limp body fall to the ground.

Time no longer mattered. Things were a blur. Stiles' soul shrivel and he hoped that the world would end right then and there — because surely, _surely,_ it couldn't keep going on after this. No one could keep going on after this.

But deep inside of him he felt it, the monster dancing, basking in his pain.

Stiles wanted to sink down beside Erica and die with her. And that only made the Trickster laugh more.

Unger released him, apparently deciding he posed no danger positioned between the both Vampires. He turned toward Erica's body and his fangs came out. "Dinner time."

The Trickster laughed and laughed.

"Don't. Touch. Her." Stiles shoved Unger and the Vampire shoved him back making him stagger. Stiles groaned holding his left arm.

Reddick's gaze fell on Scott's _chotki_. "Ah, the McCalls," he mused. "I'd forgotten about them. Easy to. There's what, one? Two of them left? Barely worth remembering." Those horrible red eyes focused on Stiles. "Do you know any of them? I'll have to see to them one of these days. It won't be very hard to—"

Suddenly, there was an explosion. The aquarium burst apart as water shot out of it, shattering the glass. Pieces of it flew toward Stiles, but he barely noticed. The water coalesced in the air, forming a lopsided sphere. It began to float. Toward Reddick.

Stiles felt his jaw drop as he stared at it.

Reddick watched it too, more puzzled than scared. At least until it wrapped around his face and started suffocating him.


	34. The Little Guardian

Much like the bullets, suffocation wouldn't kill Reddick. But it could cause him a hell of a lot of discomfort.

The Vampire's hands flew to his face, desperately trying to 'pry' the water away. It was no use. His fingers simply slipped through. Unger forgot about Erica and jumped to his feet.

"What is it?" he shrieked. "What's happening?"

This time, it was Stiles who wanted to laugh. His hand closed around a large piece of glass from the broken aquarium: it was jagged and sharp, cutting into his hand, but he didn't mind.

Sprinting forward, Stiles plunged the shard into Reddick's chest, aiming for the heart. Reddick emitted a strangled scream through the water and collapsed to the floor. His eyes rolled back in his head as he blacked out from the pain.

Unger stared. Reddick wasn't dead, of course, but he was temporarily down for the count.

The smart thing at that point would have been to run toward the door and the sun's safety. Instead, Stiles ran in the opposite direction, toward the fireplace. He grabbed one of the antique swords and turned back toward Unger.

Snarling with rage, Unger tried to grab him. Stiles had never trained with a sword, but Malia taught him to fight with any makeshift weapon he could find. He used the sword to keep distance between them, his motions clumsy because of his bad shoulder, but effective for the time being.

Stiles remembered fighting with his dad, how he'd been on the defensive the whole time. That wouldn't work this time. Stiles had to attack. Jabbing forward, he tried to land a blow on Unger. No luck. Unger was too fast.

Suddenly, from behind him, Reddick groaned as he started to come around. Unger glanced back, the smallest of motions that let Stiles swipe the sword across his chest. It cut the fabric of his shirt and grazed the skin, but nothing more. Still, Unger flinched and looked down in panic.

And that was what Stiles really needed.

He mustered all his strength, just like he had on the basement, drew back and swung. The sword's blade hit the side of Unger's neck, hard and deep. He gave a horrible, sickening cry, a shriek that made Stiles' skin crawl.

Stiles pulled back and hit again. Unger hands clutched at his throat, and his knees gave way. Stiles struck and struck, the sword digging deeper into Unger's neck each time. Finally, the head rolled over, detached from the body.

Stiles raised his head and found Liam standing in the doorway, eyes bugging out and skin tinged green like he might throw up. Distantly, in the back of his mind, Stiles realized Liam was the one who'd made the aquarium explode. Water magic apparently wasn't worthless after all.

Still a bit shaken, Reddick tried to rise to his feet. But Stiles was on him before he could fully manage it. The sword sang out, wreaking blood and pain with each blow. Reddick fell back to the floor. In his mind, Stiles kept seeing him break Erica's neck, and he hacked and hacked as hard as he could, as though striking fiercely enough might somehow banish the memory.

"Stiles! Stiles!"

Through his hate-filled haze, he just barely detected Liam's voice.

"Stiles, he's dead!"

The Trickster was jumping with joy.

Slowly, shakily, Stiles held back the next blow and looked down at Reddick's body. Liam was right. He was dead. _Very, very dead._

Stiles looked at the rest of the room. There was blood everywhere, but the horror of it didn't really register with him.

"Stiles," whispered Liam. He was trembling, his words filled with fear. Frowning, Stiles realized Liam was afraid of _him_. He dropped the sword on the ground. "Stiles, we have to go. Come on."

Stiles hesitated, his eyes falling over the one thing he could see in that hellhole. He crawled over to Erica's body. He dropped the sword on the floor and pulled Erica's body closer. His eyes burned. The bloodlust still pounded in him, violence and rage the only emotions he was capable of anymore.

The Trickster giggled and clapped his hands.

"Stiles, we'll come back for her," Liam said. "If other Vampires are coming, we have to get out."

"No. I won't leave her alone."

"Stiles—"

"Get out!" Stiles screamed at Liam. "Get out, and leave us alone!"

Liam hesitated but he was obviously afraid Stiles would freak out and kill him too. Slowly, he backed up toward the door and ran outside.

Silence fell. Stiles' body sagged forward, and he rested his head on Erica's chest. Closing his eyes, he waited. He waited for the anger to vanish. He waited for the Trickster to get bored and leave. He waited for her to wake up and tell him everything was okay.

That waiting just barely kept the terror and grief at bay. In that state, Erica wasn't dead. Death wasn't welcome. The Trickster couldn't laugh. Time wouldn't pass.

Unfortunately, the world did go on. Time didn't stop. The minutes did pass. The hours. Stiles didn't care. There was nothing he could but wait for her to wake up.

Footsteps and voices eventually sounded. People poured in through the door, lots of them. But his eyes never left Erica's face. Some people said some things he didn't listen. Someone tried to pull him back, but Stiles refused to go.

"Stiles," came a soft voice.

"Get away from us."

"Stiles."

The voice spoke again, a voice that his soul would have known anywhere. Hesitantly, Stiles let himself focus on the features of the person standing there. Malia knelt in front of him, keeping Erica between them, and touched his face.

She didn't say none of that 'it's okay' or 'you're going to be fine' crap. She just stared at him when he met her eyes, like she was trying to take the pain away from him and into herself.

Stiles hands shook harder. "I can't." The words hurt coming out. "I can't leave her alone. I have to protect her."

Malia finally spoke: "You have."

Slowly, gently, she helped him placed Erica's body back on the ground. Malia closed Erica's eyes. Then her arms wrapped around Stiles as she helped him up. Voices swarmed around them. Malia started to tug Stiles toward the door, but he refused to move just yet. He couldn't.

Still keeping one arm around him, Malia kissed his forehead. It was a brief, light peck, but it still shocked Stiles. _She had kissed him in front of all those guardians!_

Suddenly, Stiles felt calmer; the anger slipping away the more she touched him.

"He did that? Both of them?" somebody whispered.

"That sword hasn't been sharpened in years!"

"Get him out of here, Guardian Tate," a man said, his very voice familiar.

This time, Stiles went with her. Malia guided him out of the house, holding onto her as he managed each agonizing step. He eventually ended up on one of the Academy's jets. Malia grabbed a blanket and draped it over his shoulders. Stiles noticed then just how badly he was shivering.

"Why am I so cold?"

"Shock," someone said.

Stiles turned and saw Liam and those big blue eyes of his. Something about seeing him unleashed the memories. It all tumbled back.

"Oh God," Stiles breathed. "You saved me — You blew up the fish tank. You shouldn't have done it. You shouldn't have come back."

Liam shrugged. "You shouldn't have gone for the sword."

"Thank you," Stiles told him. "What you did... It was brilliant."

"I don't know about that," Liam mused. "Water isn't much of a weapon, remember?"

Stiles would've smiled if he was capable of that. "Water's a great weapon," he said finally. "I should've listened to you. I should've listened to Malia. I should've listened to my dad—" he choked. "Where is my dad?"

"He's here," said Malia, sounding surprised. "Didn't you see him?"

Stiles shook his head. Liam said he would call him. Stiles' dad came quickly and sat down beside him.

"Stiles." For once in his life, he sounded scared. Terrified, maybe. "Liam said you wanted to see me. What... what do you need?"

Stiles didn't know what he needed. He didn't know what to do. The stinging in his eyes grew unbearable, and before he knew it, he was crying. Big, painful sobs seized his body. The tears he'd held back so long poured down his face. The fear and grief burst free, burning in his chest.

He could scarcely breathe.

His dad held him, and Stiles' buried his face in his chest, sobbing even harder.

"I know," his dad said softly, tightening his grip on Stiles. "It feels exactly like that."

* * *

The weather warmed up the day of Stiles' ceremony.

He had walked away from the Spokane incident with minor wounds. His shoulder was fixed and he had broken two ribs when he'd fall from the ceiling. But none of that bothered him. In fact, he scarcely felt his body anymore. The only thing inside of him was the death he'd caused and the death he'd seen. He wanted little more than to go curl up in a ball somewhere and not talk to anyone.

But it was time to receive his slayer marks.

All his life, he'd looked forward to the marks. He'd seen them as badges of honor. But now just the thought made him sick. He remembered what Malia had said about the marks. They were only going to be reminders of something he wanted desperately to forget.

Two marks: Reddick and Unger.

Stiles didn't even want to look at it.

After it was done, all the gathered guardians came up to him one by one. They each said, "Welcome to the ranks," before moving on.

Malia, however, didn't say anything when her turn came; instead, she held him in a tight embrace that made some people gasp and avert their eyes.

When Adrian Harris came and said, "Now you're one of us. I always knew you'd be one of the best," Stiles thought he was imagining things.

Then came his dad and he brushed his fingers against the back of Stiles' neck. "Don't ever forget," he told him.

Nobody congratulated him like Stiles thought it would happen. Death wasn't anything to get excited about.

His dad walked with him when that was over. Something big had shifted in the nature of their relationship. It finally felt like they knew each other. It finally felt like family.

"I'll be leaving soon," he told Stiles.

"I know." There was no question he'd leave. That was how it was. Guardians followed half-breeds. _They came first._

That made Stiles remember what Lydia had told Scott.

"How did you guys find us?"

The look on his dad's face confirmed what he feared. "Scott found you, Stiles." So Scott had really found a way to feel Stiles. That would definitely explains why Scott had been respecting Stiles' want to be alone — he could probably feel how serious Stiles was about that.

His dad regarded him for a few moments. "You did well, Stiles. Considering the circumstances."

Stiles didn't think he deserved that. He understood now the mistakes and lapses of judgment that had led to the events at Reddick's house. It had all been his fault and he would never make up for that.

"You know, I like her," his dad said suddenly.

Stiles glanced at him. "Who?"

"Guardian Tate." Stiles froze, unsure of what to say. His dad gave him a sad smile. "After Henry died, she wrote me a letter. In crayon. Six years old, but she knew she wanted to be a guardian. Her mother was against it. So was I, if I'm being honest. I never believed a girl raised in a peaceful community could do good here. But she found a way."

Something occurred to Stiles. "Where is Nazilli?"

His dad smiled. "In the Middle East."

Stiles made a face. "I know it's in the Mi—" he stopped and glanced at the _Nazar_ on his neck. _"An old superstition from the Middle East!"_

"She said it was powerful," his dad confirmed. Then shrugged. "You know, Stiles, sometimes it's hard to know the difference. But when you find what you're looking for, you just know." Guardian Stilinski hugged his son one more time and said: "Just be careful, son, with whatever you choose."


	35. The Aftermath

Everyone wanted to see his marks. Stiles was harassed from corridor to corridor. Their eyes shone with eagerness and excitement. Stiles was a hero, their classmate who'd dispatched the leaders of the roving band of Vampires that had so terrorized them over the holidays.

Stiles met the eyes of someone standing at the back of the group, someone who looked neither eager nor excited. Boyd. Meeting his gaze, Boyd gave Stiles a small, sad smile.

Boyd understood. There were no heroes.

The school day couldn't end a moment too soon, and Scott walked with Stiles back to the dorm. After a few days alone, being near Scott made Stiles feel better. Normal.

"You made the bond work my way." It wasn't an accusation anymore; Stiles was thankful. If it weren't for Scott, they'd probably all be dead.

"Lydia made some pretty good points."

Stiles shook his head. "No. I don't agree if what she said."

Scott stared. "You really don't?" The notion seemed to worry him.

"I'm the one who needs to keep you safe, man. Not the other way around. I can't have you worrying about me. Or better saying, I can't be worrying about you worrying about me when I already worry about all the time. Get it?"

Scott smiled. "Yeah. 'Cause that makes perfect sense. Anyway, don't worry. I think it was more of a one-time kind of thing. It felt like I was ripping my freaking head open. I don't think I'll be doing that again so soon, dude."

It had felt like that for Stiles too the first time too. Only he hadn't make it happen and he couldn't make it stop.

"When is she leaving?" Stiles asked. Lydia had made a point to come to Erica's funeral — something he deeply appreciated — and for some reason was still hanging around.

Scott turned to him in surprise. "Oh. Um, you don't know."

"What do I not know?"

"Uh, she isn't leaving. She transferred. She's going to finish her school career here."

"Can she do that?"

Smiling at his shock, Scott nodded. "I think Lydia Martin can do anything she wants."

"I don't like this," said Stiles. "And I don't like this dream walking thing she does."

"Oh, but that is super cool. And she's cool too, Stiles. I'm glad she's here." Scott paused. "There's something else I want to talk to you about. Kira told me what happened in Spokane. She mentioned, uh, the—the Trickster?" Stiles made a face and Scott continued quickly. "And... When I opened my head to you, I sort of felt him. It was like something terrible was pulling me down. It took my focus away. And the anger... it was like nothing I ever felt."

Stiles had spent every night thinking about the Trickster. _Who was he? Where had he come from? Why was it happening to him?_ Stiles wasn't done processing all the shit he'd been through, but he knew he'd soon have to find out more about what was happening inside of him.

"Is that how you feel? All the time?" Scott asked softly.

"I don't know. It's hard to explain. Sometimes, I can feel him inside of me, as if his presence was stronger than mine. He can take over everything. But now... I'm not angry anymore. Maybe because I'm sad. He seems satisfied with the pain. For now."

Scott faced his own shoes. "I'll help you," he promised. "When the time comes, I'll help you." And then he smiled and, for whatever reason, Stiles did the same. It was true: he wasn't feeling that deep darkness anymore which made room for other things. And for the first time since Spokane, Stiles felt good, like it was possible that things would get better.

"Yeah, we'll figure it out. And then we'll get rid of him. Without anyone getting hurt this time."

Stiles could feel Scott's absolute faith in him. "I know we will."

They talked for most of the evening. When the time came for Stiles' usual practice with Malia, they parted ways. As he walked away, Stiles pondered something that had been bothering him.

Although the attacking groups of Vampires had had many more members, the guardians felt confident Reddick had been their leader. That didn't mean there wouldn't be other threats in the future. They could find a new leader.

Stiles thought about the list he'd seen in the tunnel in Spokane, the one that had listed the royal families. Reddick had mentioned the McCalls and the Yukimuras by name. He knew they were almost gone, and he'd sounded keen on being the one to finish them. Sure, he was dead now... but were there other Vampires out there with the same idea?

 _No._ Stiles couldn't worry about that. Not today. He still needed to recover from everything else. Soon, though. Soon he'd have to deal with this.

He didn't even know if their practice was still on but went to the gym anyway where he found Malia lying on the ring, reading one of the books she loved. She looked up at his entrance and sat up. He'd seen little of her in these last few days and had figured she was busy making arrangements with Derek.

"I hoped you'd come by today," she said, putting a bookmark between the pages and dropping the book on the floor.

"It's time for practice."

She shook her head. "No. No practice today." She called him closer and patted the floor where she wanted him to sit. Stiles obeyed. They sat cross legged on the floor, in the middle of the wrestling ring, facing each other.

"I've got a clean bill of health. I'm good to go," he said trying to sound like his usual self.

"But I'm not," she told him. Stiles' heart fluttered as he looked into those gorgeous dark eyes. "I know you can't get over what happened so quickly. You won't. Even with Vampires... well, it's still technically taking a life. That's hard to come to terms with. Especially on top of everything else." She sighed heavily, suddenly looking vulnerable. "When I saw you there... when we found you in that house... you can't imagine how I felt."

Stiles swallowed. "How—how did you feel?"

"I—" she shook her head. "I mean, you were alive, but the way you looked... I didn't think you'd ever come out of there. Emotionally, you know? I didn't want you to go through that." Her eyes started to water and Stiles watched with pure wonder. "You will recover — I know that now. You're so strong. But you aren't there. Losing someone you care about is never easy."

Stiles' eyes dropped from her and he studied the floor. "It's my fault," he said in a small voice.

"What?"

"Erica," he struggled to say. He hadn't said her name since that day. "Getting killed."

He didn't have to see her face to know compassion was filling it. "Oh, Stiles. No. You made some bad decisions... you should have told others when you knew she was gone... asked for help. But you can't blame yourself. You didn't kill her."

His eyes hurt. "I might as well have. The whole reason she went there — it was my fault. We had a fight... and I told her about the Spokane thing, even though you asked me not to—"

Malia covered her face with her hands and cried. Stiles watched not knowing what to do. _What was happening?_ "Why don't you blame me then?" she demanded.

Stiles had not seen that coming. "W—what? But you didn't do anything. I, on the other hand..." Stiles hesitated. "You told me not to tell anyone."

Regret filled her face. "I was told the same thing, Stiles," she admitted. "But we weren't getting along and I just thought that... that maybe if I shared something like that with you, something so big, you wouldn't be mad at me anymore, and I wouldn't be mad at you. I was the childish one. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm so, so sorry!"

His jaw hit the floor. Everything was wrong. Malia didn't apologize because Malia was never wrong. Malia didn't cry; she was always strong. And most of all, Malia wouldn't purposefully disobey a direct order from another guardian just to please Stiles. The possibility almost made him laugh.

"I don't blame you," he said truthfully. Not a single part of him did.

"You can't blame yourself either," she told him. "You can regret your decisions and wish you'd done things differently, but in the end, Erica made her decisions too. She choose to be there. She choose to come back for you." Malia had a weird look in her face. Stiles understood what she wasn't saying: when Erica had come back for him, she'd let her feelings for him get in the way. It was what Malia had always feared, that if she and Stiles had any sort of relationship, it would put them — and any half-breeds they protected — in danger.

He nodded. "I just wish I'd been able to... I don't know." Suddenly, he didn't want to have that conversation anymore. He stood up before Malia could stop him. "I should go," he said thickly. "Let me know when you want to start practice again. And thanks for... talking."

Stiles started to turn; then he heard her say abruptly, "No."

He glanced back. "What?"

She was still crying, but her face was perfectly calm now. She held his gaze, and something warm and wonderful and powerful shot between them.

"No," she repeated. "I told him no."

"I—" Stiles shut his mouth before his jaw hit the floor again. He immediately knew who she meant: Derek. "But... why? That was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You could have had... what we can not have," he babbled dumbly. "And he... he was, you know, into you..."

The ghost of a smile flickered on her face. "Yes, that's what he said. And that's exactly why I said no. I couldn't do this to him. I don't feel like that. I can't give him what he wants from me. Not when... Not while I'm in love with you."

Stiles almost started crying again. He moved around in that hyperactive way of his. "But you seemed so into him." He didn't know why he was arguing. It wasn't like he wanted her to have gone with Derek. God, he didn't! But he just couldn't understand how she could love _him_ instead. It made no sense. "And you kept going on about how stupid I am."

"You _are_ pretty stupid," she granted, "But—but you know things, Stiles. Things they don't know," she said, like she meant the rest of the world. "That day... You know, here in the gym? You said... You were right about everything you said. And people don't just know these things. They can't know. But you do and it scares the living hell out of me. You scare me."

Still open-mouthed, Stiles returned to the sitting position he was before in front of her. "Why don't you want anyone to know?"

She shrugged. "Whether they know or not doesn't matter. What matters is that—that you can see it. You just know me that well. When a person can see into your soul... It's just that much easier being with someone who's just more of a casual friend."

"Like Derek."

Malia nodded. "I do like Derek. He is a great guy. He just—"

"Doesn't know things?"

"—isn't you," she finished. "But I still tried, you know? I tried really, so very hard. I thought maybe he could help me. Maybe he could help me forget you."

Stiles had thought the same thing about Erica. "But he couldn't."

"No. No, he couldn't." She smiled and took his hand. "And so, I think we have a problem."

"Because it's wrong for us to be together?"

"Yes."

"Because guardians can't have feelings?"

"Yes."

"Because we're going to be Scott's guardians and... and he matters most?"

"Yes."

Stiles thought about this for a moment and then looked straight into her eyes. "Well," he said at last, "the way I see it, we aren't Scott's guardians yet."

He steeled himself for the next response. He knew it was going to be one of the Zen life lessons. Something about inner strength and perseverance, about how the choices they made today were templates for the future or some other nonsense.

Instead Malia kissed him.

 **End of Act II**


	36. The Variable

**Act III**

 _"...there's someone in my head but it's not me..."_

Her fingertips slid across his back, applying hardly any pressure, yet sending shock waves over his flesh. Slowly — so slowly — her hands moved across his skin, down the sides of his stomach then up again. Just below his ear, Stiles felt her lips press against his neck, followed by another kiss just below it, then another, then another...

Her lips moved from his neck toward his cheek and then finally found his mouth. They kissed, wrapping themselves closer together. Stiles' blood burned within him, and he felt more alive in that moment than he ever had. He loved her, loved Kira so much that—

Kira?

 _Oh no._

Some coherent part of him immediately realized what was happening — and boy, was it pissed off. The rest of him, however, was still actually living in this encounter, experiencing it as though Stiles was the one being touched and kissed. That part of him couldn't break away. He'd merged too much with Scott, and for all intents and purposes, this was happening to Stiles.

 _No,_ he told himself sternly. _It's not real — not for you. Get out of there._

But how could he listen to logic when every nerve of his body was being set on fire?

 _You aren't him. This isn't your head. Get out._

Her lips. There was nothing in the world right now except her lips.

 _It's not her. Get out._

The kisses were the same, exactly as he remembered with her...

 _No, it's not Malia. Get out!_

Malia's name was like cold water hitting Stiles in the face. He woke up fast, so fast he fell out of the bed and hit his head on the bedside table. He felt smothered. His heart beat hard in his chest, and he tried to take deep breaths to steady himself and return to his own reality.

Times sure had changed. A long time ago, Scott's nightmares used to wake Stiles from sleep. Now his sex life did.

Stiles had actually gotten the hang of blocking out Scott's romantic interludes — at least when he was awake. This time, Scott and Kira had (unintentionally) outsmarted him. In sleep, his defenses were down, allowing strong emotions to pass through the psychic link that connected them.

"God," he spat, sitting up. Couldn't Scott and Kira have seriously kept their hands off each other until waking hours?

Worse than being woken up, though, was the way he still felt. Sure, none of that making out had actually happened to him. It hadn't been his skin being touched or his lips being kissed. Yet his body seemed to feel the loss of it nonetheless. It had been a very long time since he'd been in that kind of situation. He ached and felt warm all over. It was idiotic, but suddenly, desperately, he wanted someone to touch him — even just to hold him.

But definitely not Kira.

Stiles stood up on shaky legs, feeling restless and .. well, sad. Sad and empty. Needing to walk off his weird mood, he left his room for the bathroom down the hall. He splashed cool water on his face. His reflection looked sleep-deprived, but Stiles didn't want to go back to bed. He didn't want to risk falling asleep to that.

He left the bathroom and turned toward the stairwell, his barefeet light on the steps as he went downstairs. He didn't find anyone on his way out; it was almost noon, for crying out loud, middle of the night for half-breeds.

Once outside, Stiles eased the door shut as gently as possible. No noise. Cold wind blasted him in the face, but it was exactly what he needed. Squinting at the sunlight, he regretted not grabbing a coat, or a least put on some sleepers. He walked around the side of the building, toward a spot between it and the gym that wasn't quite so exposed to the elements.

Focusing on the cold in his body was better than remembering what it had felt like to have Kira's hands on him. Standing there, staring off at a cluster of trees without really seeing them, Stiles was surprised to feel a spark of anger at his friends.

 _It must be nice, uh? To do whatever the hell you want?_ the little voice said. _Scott complains he wasn't able to keep his mind open to your experiences. But we both know, he has no idea how lucky he is. He has no idea what it is like to share a mind, right, Stiles? To have someone else's thoughts intruding on yours, someone else's experiences muddling yours. Scott lives his perfect love life when your own has to be kept secret. He doesn't understand how deep your feelings burn, how much they hurt you. No, he doesn't understand. But you can make him see, Stiles. If only you—_

 _Shut up,_ Stiles told him.

The Trickster consented with a grin.

But his words wouldn't leave Stiles. The Trickster had been right: Scott didn't understand. He didn't have to. He could carry on with his own romantic affairs, with no regard for what he was doing to Stiles.

Stiles realized then that he was breathing heavily again. It was the rage. He felt anger and jealousy, feelings born of what he couldn't have and what came so easily to Scott. He tried his best to swallow those emotions back; he didn't want to feel that way toward his best friend. But still, it ate him up inside until he wanted to scream or kick something.

"Are you sleepwalking?" a voice asked from behind him.

Stiles spun around, startled. Malia stood there watching him, looking both amused and curious. It would figure that while he was raging over the problems of his unfair love life, the source of those problems would be the one to find him.

Stiles hadn't heard her approach at all. So much for his ninja skills.

"I was testing dorm security," he said. "It sucks."

A hint of a smile played over her lips. "Really, no shoes? You must be freezing."

"Yeah, I can't feel my feet. But what are you doing out here? Are you testing security too?"

"I am security. This is my watch."

"Well, good work," said Stiles. "I'm glad I was able to help test your awesome skills. Would you mind warming me a bit now? It's getting critical." He went forward until they were very closed to each other; Malia didn't step back.

"Stiles—" She took his hand, and despite all the wind and chill and slush, a flash of heat shot through him. "What are you really doing out here?"

He shrugged, focusing on the rare moment he had with her. "I had a bad dream. Fell out of bed. Needed some air."

"So you just rushed out. Breaking the rules didn't even cross your mind — and neither did putting on a coat."

"Yep. That pretty much sums it up."

Malia actually giggled. Stiles couldn't believe his luck. Before anything could ruin her rare good mood, he kissed her.

"What are you doing?" she asked in between kisses.

"Well, my birthday's coming up," he said, "I want kisses."

"Is that all you want?"

Stiles started to make another joke, but the image of Scott and Kira flared into his mind again. That sad and empty feeling in his stomach returned. Anything he might have wanted suddenly seemed trivial. What did material things like that mean compared to the one thing he wanted most of all?

The amusement on her face suddenly faded, her expression growing troubled. She studied him for several moments. Sometimes Stiles felt as though her eyes could see right into his soul. "If you could pick anything at all, Stiles," she said. "What would it be?"

 _Freedom_ , he thought. That was the only gift he longed for. Freedom to make his own choices. Freedom to love who he wanted.

"It doesn't matter," he said instead.

"What do you—" she stopped. She understood. She always did. It was part of why they connected so well. In a not-so-obvious attempt to change the subject, she said, "Gosh, you really are freezing," as she rubbed his arms with her hands. "Let's go inside. I'll take you in through the back."

But he didn't want to go inside. Well, part of him did; the part that was really cold. But once inside they wouldn't be _them_ anymore. Inside it was _her_ and _him_.Inside they couldn't touch. He would rather freeze.

"I think you're the one who's cold," he teased, but it didn't much work because his teeth started clapping as they walked around the side of the dorm holding hands. "Is it true you're never cold? Because you're used to harsher weather?"

"I think you're imagining Turkey the wrong way."

"Possible. In fact, I'm not entirely sure where that is," he said truthfully.

"It's warm as hell," was her answer.

"Do you miss it?" he asked. It was something he'd never considered before.

"All the time," she said, her voice a little wistful. "Sometimes I wish—"

"Guardian Tate!"

A voice was carried on the wind from behind them. Malia muttered something, and then shoved Stiles into some bushes. Stiles fell on his knees and the thick clusters of sharp, pointed leaves scratched where his skin was exposed.

"You're not on watch," he heard Malia say several moments later.

"No, but I needed to talk to you." Stiles recognized the voice. It belonged to Chris Argent, captain of the Academy's guardians. "It'll just take a minute. We need to shuffle some of the watches while you're at the trial."

"I figured," Malia said. There was a funny, almost uncomfortable note in her voice. "It's going to put a strain on everyone else — bad timing."

"Yes, well, the queen runs on her own schedule." Chris sounded frustrated, and Stiles tried to figure out what was going on. "Celeste will take your watches, and she and Emil will divide up your training times."

Training times? Malia wouldn't be conducting any trainings next week because — Ah. That was it, Stiles realized. The field experience. Tomorrow kicked off six weeks of hands-on practice for the novices. They'd have no classes and would get to protect half-breeds night and day while the guardians tested them. The 'training times' must be when Malia would be out participating in that. But what was this trial he'd mentioned?

"They say they don't mind the extra work," continued Chris, "but I was wondering if you could even things out and take some of their shifts before you leave?"

"Absolutely," she said, words still short and stiff.

"Thanks, Tate. I think that'll help." He sighed. "I wish I knew how long this trial was going to be. I don't want to be away that long. You'd think it'd be a done deal with Gerard, but now I hear the queen's getting cold feet about imprisoning a major royal."

Stiles stiffened.

"I'm sure they'll do the right thing," said Malia. Stiles realized at that moment why she wasn't saying much. This wasn't something he was supposed to hear.

"I hope so. And I hope it'll only take a few days, like they claim. Look, it's miserable out here. Would you mind coming into the office for a second to look at the schedule?"

"Sure," she said. "Let me check on something first. I'll be right there."

"Alright. See you soon."

Silence fell, and Stiles had to assume Chris was walking away. He shot up from his hiding spot. The look on Malia's face told him she already knew what was coming.

"Stiles—"

"Gerard?" he exclaimed, trying to keep his voice low so Chris wouldn't hear. "As in Gerard Argent?"

She didn't bother denying it. "Yes."

"And you guys were talking about... Do you mean..." Stiles was so startled, so dumbstruck, that he could barely get his thoughts together. This was unbelievable. "I thought he was locked up! Are you saying he hasn't been on trial yet?"

Malia had a look on her face Stiles knew well. It was the one she got when she thought Stiles might punch someone. "He's been locked up — but no, no trial yet. Legal proceedings sometimes take a long time."

"But there's going to be a trial now? And you're going?" Stiles spoke through clenched teeth, trying to be calm. He suspected he still had the I'm-going-to-punch-someone look on his face.

"Next week," she said. "They need me and some of the other guardians to testify about what happened to you and Scott that night."

"Call me crazy for asking this, but, um, are Scott and I going with you?" He had already guessed the answer, and didn't like it.

She hesitated. "No."

"No?"

"No."

Stiles crossed his arms. "Look, doesn't it seem reasonable that if you're going to talk about what happened to _us_ , then you should have us there?"

Malia, fully in strict-instructor mode now, shook her head. "The queen and some of the other guardians thought it'd be best if you didn't go. There's enough evidence between the rest of us, and besides, criminal or not, he is — or was — one of the most powerful royals in the world. Those who know about this trial want to keep it quiet."

"So, what, you thought if you brought us, we'd tell everyone?" Stiles exclaimed.

"I didn't think anything, Stiles. I don't call the shots—"

"Come on. You really think we'd do that? The only thing we want is to see Gerard locked up. Forever. Maybe longer. And if there's a chance he might walk free, you have to let us go."

After Gerard had been caught, he'd been taken to prison, and Stiles had thought that was where the story had ended. He'd figured they'd locked him up to rot. It had never occurred to him — though it should have — that Gerard'd need a trial first. At the time, his crimes had seemed so obvious. But, although the half-breed government was secret and separate from the human one, it operated in a lot of the same ways. Due process and all that.

"What makes you think it's up to me?" Malia said. "I don't have a say in it."

"But you have influence. You could speak up for us, especially if—" Some of his anger dimmed just a little, replaced by a sudden and startling fear. Stiles almost couldn't say the next words. "Especially if there really is a chance he might get off. Is there? Is there really a chance the queen could let him go?"

"I don't know. There's no telling what Natalie or some of the other high-up royals will do sometimes." Malia suddenly looked tired. She reached into her pocket and handed over a set of keys. "Look, I know you're upset, but we can't talk about it now. I have to go meet Chris, and you need to get inside. Your feet are blue. The square key, remember?"

He did. "Yeah. Thanks."

He was sulking and hated to be that way — especially since she was saving him from getting in trouble — but he couldn't help it. Gerard Argent was a criminal — a villain, even. He was power-hungry and greedy and didn't care who he stepped on to get his way. If he were loose again... well, there was no telling what might happen to Scott or any other half-breed. It enraged Stiles to think that he could do something to help put him away but that no one would let him do it.

Malia took his hand again. "Stiles?" He glanced back. "I'm sorry," she said. She paused, and her expression of regret turned wary. She gave him a peck on the forehead. "And you'd better bring the keys back tomorrow."

Stiles turned away and kept going. It was probably unfair, but some childish part of him believed Malia could do anything. If she'd really wanted to get Scott and Stiles to the trial, she certainly could have.

When he was almost to the side door, Stiles caught movement in his peripheral vision. His mood plummeted. Great. Malia had given him keys to sneak back in, and now someone else had busted him. That was typical of his luck. Half-expecting a teacher to demand to know what he was doing, Stiles turned and prepared an excuse.

But it wasn't a teacher.

It wasn't a guardian either.

Or a student.

It was probably not even human...

This had to be a trick.

A mistake.

For half an instant, Stiles wondered if he'd ever really woken up. Maybe he was actually still in bed, asleep and dreaming.

It had to be a dream.

Because surely, surely that was the only explanation for what he was now seeing in front of him on the Academy's lawn, lurking in the shadow of an ancient, gnarled oak, looking right at him like she had something extremely important to say.

 _Erica._


	37. The Field Experience

It was hard to see her. Stiles had to keep squinting and blinking to get her in focus. Her form was insubstantial — almost translucent — and kept fading in and out of his field of vision. But it was definitely Erica. Her features were washed out, making her skin and hair look whiter. A very, very faint glow seemed to outline her features.

The part that struck Stiles the most — aside from the fact that she was supposed to be dead — was the look on her face. It was sad; _so, so sad._ Looking into cat-like eyes, Stiles felt his heart break. All the memories came rushing back to him. He saw it all again: her body falling, the cruel look on Reddick's face... A lump formed in his throat and Stiles stood there frozen, stunned and unable to move.

Erica studied him too, her expression never changing. Sad. Grim. Serious. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it. Several more heavy moments hung between them, and then she lifted her hand and extended it toward him. Something in that motion snapped Stiles out of his daze.

 _No, this could not be happening. He wasn't seeing this. Erica was dead. He'd seen her die. He'd held her body. He'd watched her been buried._

Her fingers moved slightly, like she was beckoning, and Stiles panicked. Backing up a few steps, he put distance between them and waited to see what would happen. Erica didn't follow. She simply stood there, hand still in the air. Stiles heart lurched, and he turned and ran.

He made it up to his room and slammed the door behind him, hands shaking.

 _What the hell? That had not been real. No way. Impossible. Erica was dead._

Clearly, Stiles was imagining things. That was it. It had to be. Probably the cold had frozen part of his brain too.

 _You don't really believe that,_ the Trickster said.

Stiles went back to bed but couldn't fall asleep. All he could see were those sad, cat-like eyes that seemed to say, _Stiles, why did you let this happen to me?_

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think. Since the funeral, he'd been working so hard to go on and act like he was strong. But the truth was, he was nowhere near being over her death.

 _It was all your fault._

 _Shut up,_ Stiles growled.

It couldn't have been Erica. Because while Stiles believed in Vampires and Werewolves and magic and psychic powers, he most certainly did not believe in ghosts.

He went to breakfast that night even more sleep deprived than he'd been before. And worse of all: today was _the_ day. Or, well, the night. The big night. The start of the field experience.

For the next six weeks, Stiles wouldn't have any classes. He'd get to spend his days hanging out with Scott. Of course, the adult guardians planned tests for novices during this phase. The ordeals were tricky. A novice had to be on watch and not slack — and be ready to defend and attack if necessary.

"Hey, man."

Boyd caught up to Stiles as he walked into the gym. Stiles tried to think of anything that wasn't Erica — or her ghost — but failed.

Luckily, Boyd said: "Ready for this?"

"Hell, yeah," said Stiles. "It's going to be like a vacation. Me and Scott, together for six weeks."

Boyd turned thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess you don't have to worry as much. You know your assignment when you graduate. The rest of us aren't so lucky."

"You got your sights set on someone royal?" Stiles teased.

"Like that matters," Boyd grinned. "Most guardians are assigned to royals lately anyway."

There was a time in the past when more half-breeds, royal and non-royal alike, would have gotten guardians, and novices would have competed fiercely to get assigned to someone important. Now, there weren't enough guardians to go around, and less influential families were on their own.

"I'm nervous," Boyd admitted after a while. "How we're rated on this will go into our records."

Stiles nodded and started to say something when a loud, clear voice cut through the murmur of conversations. The novices looked up to face an impressive line of guardians. Malia was among them, stiff and serious and business-like.

"All right," Chris began. "You all know why you're here. This is the most important day of your education before you take your final trials. Today you will find out which half-breed you've been placed with. Last week, you were given a booklet with the full details of how the next six weeks will play out. I trust you've all read it by now." He glanced at Stiles like he doubted he'd ever read anything in his life. "Just to recap, Guardian Harris will highlight the main rules of this exercise."

Adrian Harris stepped forward. "You'll be on duty six days a week. This is actually a treat for you guys. In the real world, you're usually working every day. You will accompany your half-breed everywhere — to class, to their dorms. Everything. It's up to you to figure out how you fit into their lives. Some half-breeds interact with their guardians just like friends; some prefer you to be more of an invisible force who doesn't talk to them. Every situation is different, and you two will have to find a way to work it out to best ensure their safety."

"Attacks may come at any time, anywhere," said Chris, "so you should always be on your guard. Remember, even though you'll obviously know it's us doing the attacking and not real Vampires, you should respond as though your lives are in terrible, immediate danger. Don't be afraid of hurting us. Some of you may feel like you have to hold back, for fear of getting in trouble. Don't. You'll get in more trouble if you do hold back."

Harris agreed. "You will be on duty twenty-four hours a day for your six-day cycles, but you may sleep during daylight when your half-breed does. Just be aware that although Vampire attacks are rare in daylight, they aren't impossible indoors, and you will not necessarily be 'safe' during these times."

Harris read over a few more technicalities, and Stiles felt his eyes getting heavier and heavier.

 _Now you're wishing you had slept._

 _Just shut up!_

"Alright," Chris' voice brought him back. "I'm going to call out your names one by one and announce who you're paired with. At that time, come down here to the floor to receive a packet containing information about your half-breed's schedule."

The novices straightened up as Chris leafed through his papers. He started calling names. Boyd was sweating beside Stiles.

"Vernon Boyd," Chris announced. Boyd gulped. "Scott McCall."

Both Boyd and Stiles froze for the space of a heartbeat, and then duty made Boyd head toward the floor.

The world around Stiles slowed to a blur. Chris kept calling names, but Stiles wasn't even hearing. What was going on? Clearly, someone had made a mistake. Scott was his assignment. He had to be. Stiles was going to be his guardian. This made no sense.

For whatever reason, the Trickster seemed to find that funny. Heart racing, Stiles took a deep breath. Okay. No need to panic just yet. Someone had made a clerical error here, one that could be fixed.

"Stilinski," Harris said, in that pissed off tone of his. "How many times do we have to call you?"

Stiles looked up.

"Kira Yukimura," said Chris. Stiles simply stared at him, unable to move or respond.

 _No. He had not just said that! This wasn't happening._

"Stilinski!"

Someone elbowed Stiles, like maybe he didn't recognize his own name. But there was a mistake! There had to be a mistake. Stiles headed toward the guardians and was handed a packet and a practice stake.

Disbelieving, he read the words on the packet's cover three times. Kira Yukimura. Flipping it open, he saw her life spread out before him. A current picture. Her class schedule. Her family tree. Her bio. It even went into detail about her parents' tragic history.

It was a sign of Stiles newly developing patience that he didn't walk right up to them then and there and demand answers. Oh, he wanted to. Instead, he let them go through their list.

When the last novice had been assigned his half-breed, Stiles cut through the crowd and stalked up to Malia and Chris, who were chatting about something and didn't notice him right away.

When Malia saw him, she made a face like she knew exactly what was coming. Stiles didn't care. He held up his packet and pointed. "What's the meaning of this?"

Chris' face looked blank and confused. "It's your assignment, Stilinski," he said.

"No," Stiles said through gritted teeth. "It's not. This is somebody else's assignment."

"The assignments in your field experience aren't optional," Chris told him sternly. "Just as your assignments in the real world won't be. You can't pick who you protect based on whim and mood, not here and certainly not after graduation."

"But after graduation, I'm going to be Scott's guardian!" Stiles exclaimed. "Everyone knows that. I'm supposed to have him for this thing."

"I know it's an accepted idea that you'll be together after graduation, but I do not recall any mandatory rulings that say you're 'supposed' to have him or anyone here at school. You take who you're assigned."

"Kira?" Stiles threw his packet on the floor. "You're out of your mind if you think I'm guarding her."

"Stiles!" snapped Malia, joining the conversation at last. Her voice was hard and sharp. "You're out of line. You do not speak to your instructors like that."

Stiles crossed his arms. He couldn't help it. He was too angry, and the lack of sleep was taking its toll. His nerves felt raw and strained, and suddenly, little things seemed difficult to bear.

"This is ridiculous," he said using words that weren't his. "Nearly as stupid as not bringing us to Gerard Argent's trial."

Malia's jaw dropped. She couldn't believe he had mentioned that and Stiles knew well why. But the possibilities of the troubles they could get into for that only made the Trickster enjoy this more.

Chris blinked in surprise. "How did you know—" He glanced at Malia who, for once, was staring at her shoes. "Never mind. We'll deal with that later. For now, this is your assignment, Stilinski, and you need to do it."

"This is ridiculous!" Stiles repeated. "Why should I waste my time with Kira? Scott's the one I'm going to be with when I graduate. Seems like if you want me to be able to do a good job, you should have me practice with him. It's what's best for everyone."

"Somewhere, someday, you could end up with a different half-breed," said Chris. "You need to learn how to guard someone with whom you have absolutely no experience. Not everyone you protect will be your friend. Not everyone you protect will be someone you like. You need to learn this. There's more to this job than the technicalities, Stilinski. There's a whole personal aspect — a bedside manner, if you will — that we don't touch on much in class. We teach you how to deal with the Cold Ones. You need to learn how to deal with the half-breeds yourselves. And you in particular need to deal with someone who has not been your best friend for years."

"You also need to learn what it's like to work with someone when you can't instantly sense that they're in danger," added Malia.

"Right," agreed Chris. "There's also that."

Stiles opened his mouth to fight, to argue, but Malia cut him off. "It also wouldn't be bad if you learned how to hold your tongue."

"This is the only assignment you're going to get," decided Chris. "If you don't take it, then you opt out of the field experience." And he walked away.

Stiles turned to Malia. "You need to—"

"No," she cut. " _You_ need to be quiet. Look, Stiles, you may not be happy about this, but it is good. Working with another half-breed will help keep Scott alive. Scott's got a handicap too — and that's you. If he never has a chance to learn what it's like to be guarded by someone without a psychic connection, he could be at greater risk if attacked. Guarding someone is a two-person relationship. This assignment for your field experience is as much for him as it is for you."

Stiles stayed silent as he processed her words. They almost made sense. Reluctantly he picked up the packet. "Fine," he said icily. "I'll do this. But I want it noted that I'm doing this against my will."

He turned and stormed off across the gym. He was heading across the quad, toward the commons, when someone called: "Why so glum, little guardian?"

Stiles sighed. "Lydia, I'll be warning you, I'm not in the mood for anything."

"What happened? You're stomping through every puddle you can find and looking like you're going to punch the first person you see."

"Then you shouldn't stand so close."

"Aw, you'd never hurt me," she smiled. "My face is too pretty."

Stiles glanced at her. "I got assigned to Kira for my field experience."

There was a pause, and then Lydia laughed. "Wow. Now I see. In light of that, you actually seem remarkably calm."

"I was supposed to have Scott," Stiles growled. "I can't believe they did this to me."

"Why did they do it? Is there some chance you might not be with him when you graduate? Because, like I said, I'd love to have you."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "They seem to think this is going to help me train better. Malia and I will still be his real guardians later."

Lydia gave him a sidelong glance. "Oh, I'm sure that'll be quite the hardship for you two. What's the problem, then? Kira'll be with Scott all the time anyway."

She had a point.

"Have I mentioned your aura to you?" she asked suddenly. There was a strange note to her voice. Hesitant. Curious. Concerned.

"Everytime you see me."

"Auras are strange," she mumbled, eyes on him, but he knew she wasn't seeing him. "They ebb and flow and change colors and brightness. Some are vivid, some are pale. Every once in a while, someone's will settle and burn with such a pure color that you can..." She tipped her head back, staring into the sky. "You can instantly grasp what it means. It's like seeing into their soul."

"But you haven't figured mine out, huh?" He said, tired of that subject.

Lydia shrugged. "I'll get there. After a while, after seeing so many different kinds, the colors start to mean something... I'll get there."

"What's mine look like right now?"

Her lower lip trembled. She whispered: "Like you've got a shadow following you."

Stiles tensed. That knowing voice said: _did she mean me or the little ghost?_

Lydia's normal mirth returned and she didn't look crazy anymore. "Don't worry, little guardian," she said because she couldn't hear the voice inside his head. "It'll be okay."


	38. The Big Stilinski

Down in the cafeteria, Scott sat at a table by himself. He glanced up at Stiles' approach, and welcoming feelings flowed through the bond. He grinned. "Oh, look at your face. It's true, isn't it? You really are assigned to Kira." Stiles glared. "Would it kill you to be a little less miserable? I mean, I hang out with her all the time. It won't be that bad."

"You have the patience of a saint," Stiles grumbled, slouching into a chair.

Across the room, Kira entered through a set of double doors and approached them. She pulled up a chair at their table and flipped it backwards, letting her chin rest on its slatted back. Stiles felt Scott's heart lighten at her presence.

"I can't wait until this show gets on the road," she said. "You and me are going to have so much fun, Stiles. Picking out curtains, doing each other's hair, telling ghost stories..."

Stiles shook his head in exasperation and stood up. "I'll leave you two alone for your last few private moments."

They laughed. Stiles walked over to the lunch line trying to decide what to eat. The Trickster felt sick with pretty much anything substantial and kept trying to convince Stiles to skip his meals, but Stiles knew better now. Eating was good.

"Is it true you punched Guardian Argent?"

Stiles turned and looked into the faces of the twins, Aiden and Ethan. "Punch Chris? Hardly."

"We heard you threw a big hissy fit in the gym," said Aiden.

"All I did was—" Stiles paused and carefully chose his words. "—register my opinion."

"Well," said Aiden. "I suppose if anyone's going to keep an eye on that Vampire wannabe, it might as well be you. I hear you're the biggest badass around here." His sarcasm was exaggerated.

Before he could utter another word, Stiles was standing right in front of him, with barely any space between them. "Kira has nothing to do with any Vampire," Stiles said in a low voice.

"Her parents—"

"Are her parents. And she's Kira. You look confuse, Aiden. Want me to draw it for you?"

"Are you saying you seriously don't believe there's any chance at all she might turn into a Vampire like her parents?"

"None," Stiles said. "And if I hear you spreading that crap around, whoever's protecting you isn't going to be able to stop me."

Aiden swallowed and took a step back. "You're bluffing. You can't lay a hand on me, human. If you get suspended now, you'll never graduate."

He was right, of course, but Stiles smiled. "Wouldn't it be worth it though?"

Aiden and Ethan stalked off.

"Jerks," Stiles muttered. Ever since Aiden had started dating Lydia, he wouldn't leave Stiles alone. Apparently, he thought there was some truth to the rumors that Lydia had come to Beacon Hills to be with Stiles.

Which was definitely not true. Was it?

At first, things weren't too different from any other day. Stiles followed Kira to every class. It was a lot more uncomfortable since he now had to stand at the back of the room the entire time. But he could still enjoy the day with Scott.

About the end of the day, Scott gave Kira a quick kiss.

"You guys don't have the same schedule this time?" Stiles asked with dismay.

Scott gave his friend a sympathetic smile. "Sorry. We're going to study together after school, but right now, I've got to go to creative writing."

"And I," declared Kira loftily, "have to go to culinary science."

"Culinary science?" Stiles cried. "Gods, why? That's like the brainless class—"

"Come on, Stiles," laughed Scott. "It's just one class period. It won't be that—"

He was cut off when a commotion broke out farther down the hall. Everyone stopped and stared. One of the guardian instructors had appeared out of nowhere and reached for a half-breed girl. He swung her away, pressing her to his chest and exposing her neck as though he would bite her.

The novice had been caught by surprise — it was the first attack of the day — but he fumbled only a little as he kicked the guardian in the side and wrested the girl away.

Another novice that was close by was so fixated on watching the fight that he didn't notice two other guardians sneaking up on him. One of the guardians distracted the novice while the other — Malia — grabbed the half-breed.

Boyd was quicker than Stiles, telling him to stay and headed toward them, approaching from behind, trying to land a blow on the side of Malia's head. She dodged, pressed the half-breed against the wall, and managed to throw Boyd on the ground.

Meanwhile, the first novice had won his fight and 'staked' the guardian. Now he came to help Boyd. Stiles watched, fists clenched in excitement, intrigued with the fighting in general and with watching Malia in particular. He wanted to participate, but knew he couldn't leave his charges.

The first novice grabbed Malia from behind as Boyd got to his feet. Malia raised her legs and kicked Boyd back down — the impulse also causing the first novice to stumble back. He tripped and fell, and then Malia was on top of him, hands on his neck.

"Dead," she proclaimed. The first novice was praised for killing the guardian and Boyd for trying to help. The second novice was 'killed' too fast.

With the drama over, they split up.

There were three other novices in the Culinary class who were guarding half-breeds. Since the room was large and open, with lots of windows, the four of them worked together to come up with a plan to pool efforts and secure the whole room, thus protecting the whole class.

Kira sat near Stiles' post. "I can't believe this is only the first day with you," he complained, watching her cook.

Kira glanced down, focusing on what she was doing. "Do you really hate me that much? I heard you were screaming at the top of your lungs back in the gym."

"No, I wasn't! And... I don't hate you at all," he admitted.

"You're just taking it out on me because you didn't get paired with dear old Scott." Stiles didn't answer. "You know, it might actually be a good idea for you to practice with someone different."

"That's what Malia said."

"Then why question it? I thought you did everything she told you to."

Stiles gaped. "Why—What make you think—?"

Kira shrugged. "She's your mentor, right?"

He relaxed. "Ah. Yeah."

She paused and looked up, meeting his eyes. "You're as good as her," she said. "The way you handled yourself..." She didn't finish the thought, but Stiles knew what she was talking about. She had been there with him, in that hell-hole. "Brace yourself, Stiles, but we aren't that different. I mean, I'm smarter and a lot funnier, but at the end of the day, we both want to keep him safe. And... I'm not going to take him away from you. I can't. No one can, not as long as you guys have that bond."

Stiles realized then the biggest issue was that they were both jealous of each other. He could see the bond bothered Kira. "You shouldn't worry either," he said. "He has a whole separate place for you in there."

Kira closed her eyes dramatically. "You did not just say that. I have a feeling we're on the verge of hugging and coming up with cute nicknames for each other."

"I already have a nickname for you, but I'll get in trouble if I say it out loud."

"Ah," she said happily. "That's more like it."

Across the room, Stiles saw the twins working together. Looking closely, Stiles saw that Ethan had bruises and red splotches on his face. He also had a few weird welts near his ear. Stiles found that strange to say the least — a hurt half-breed — but decided not to get involved.

After class, Kira and Stiles were going to the library to meet Scott, when Stiles saw movement on his left. A slight shadow moving just enough to catch his attention. Harris' face emerged from the darkness as he sprang toward them.

 _Finally_ , Stiles greeted.

Adrenaline shot through him just as strongly as if a real Vampire were approaching. Stiles reacted instantly, reaching out to grab Kira. That was always the first move, to throw his own life before theirs. Stiles jerked Kira to a halt and turned toward his attacker, reaching for his stake in order to defend—

And that's when she appeared.

 _Erica._

She stood behind Harris, looking just as she had last night. Translucent. Shimmering. Miserable.

The hair on the back of Stiles' neck stood up. He froze, unable to move or finish going for his stake. He forgot about what he'd been doing and completely lost track of the people and commotion around him. The world slowed down, everything fading around him.

There was only Erica — that ghostly, shimmering Erica who seemed like she so badly wanted to tell him something.

 _I wonder what she wants,_ said the Trickster, mildly interested.

Stiles' stomach turned cold and hollow. His hands shook. His eyes stung. His head spun.

Erica lifted one translucent hand and pointed toward the window. The sorrow on her face seemed to grow.

Suddenly, something slammed into his shoulder, and Stiles stumbled forward. The world suddenly started up again. Stiles fell on the ground. He looked up and saw Harris standing over him.

"Stilinski!" he barked. "What are you doing?"

Stiles blinked. He felt sluggish and dazed. He looked into Harris' angry face and then glanced over at where Erica had been. She was gone. Stiles turned his attention back to Harris and realized he now had one arm around Kira's neck. The Trickster liked that so much Stiles almost threw up.

"If I had been a Vampire," he growled, "Miss Yukimura would be dead."

* * *

The disciplinary committee was called for.

Stiles sat in one of the guardians' meeting rooms, facing Chris Argent, Adrian Harris, and (unfortunately) Finstock. Several other guardians were sitting in and watching.

"For the last time," he growled, "It wasn't on purpose."

"You know when I'll start believing a word you say, Stilinski? asked Finstock crazed.

"Stiles," said Chris, "you must know why we can't—"

"I saw you," Harris cut. "You refused to protect Miss Yukimura."

"I didn't refuse!" Stiles exclaimed. "I... fumbled."

"Fumbled!" spit Finstock like the idea was ludicrous.

"If you'd blocked or attacked me and then messed up, that would be a fumble," said Harris. "But you didn't block. You didn't attack. You didn't even try. You just stood glaring like an idiot."

"That's outrageous," said Stiles with dignity. "The thought that I would purposely leave Kira to be 'killed' is ridiculous. Why am I getting in trouble for messing up? There are others who failed. Isn't that the point of this whole exercise? Practice? If we were perfect, you'd already have unleashed us upon the world!"

"Can you listen, Stilinski?" said Finstock. Stiles could see a vein throbbing in his forehead. "You didn't mess up, because 'messing up' implies that you have to actually do something."

"Okay, then. I froze." Stiles looked at him defiantly. "Does that count as messing up? I cracked under the pressure and blanked out. It turns out I wasn't prepared."

"Oh, really?" said Harris. "The big Stilinski admits defeat? The novice who has already killed Vampires? By himself?"

"Oh, I see. After one incident, in which I got very lucky, I'm now expected to be an expert Vampire slayer? I can't panic or be afraid or anything? Makes sense. Real fair. Thank you all." Stiles slumped back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

Chris sighed and leaned forward. "What's important is that this morning, you made it very clear you did not want to guard Kira Yukimura. And then, when your first test comes around, we find you completely and utterly unresponsive. Understand where we stand. You aren't exactly known for calmly and gracefully accepting things you don't like."

Stiles stood up, pointing his finger at him accusingly. "Not true! I have followed every rule you've laid down for me since coming back here. I've gone to every practice and obeyed every curfew. There's no reason I'd let Kira 'die'. The only thing I would accomplish is getting dragged into the middle of something like this and possibly facing removal from the field experience."

"You are facing removal from the field experience," replied Finstock flatly.

"Oh." Stiles sat down, suddenly not feeling as bold. Silence hung in the room for several moments, and then Stiles heard Malia's voice speak from behind him. His heart thumped loudly in his chest; he hadn't seen her in there.

"If Stiles were going to protest or take revenge, Principal Finstock, he'd do it in a different way."

Chris looked at her with suspicion. "Yes, but after the scene he made this morning—"

"Circumstantial, Guardian Argent," Malia interrupted. "Regardless of how suspicious you think it looks, there's no proof. Removing him from the experience — and essentially ruining his graduation — is a bit extreme without any certainties."

The entire committee looked at her, but Malia didn't seem to care. After a few minutes of thought, Chris decided to agree and so did Finstock.

"Stilinski, do you have anything you'd like to say?"

 _Oh, you do, don't you?_ The Trickster woke up from his slumber. _There are tons of things. C'mon, Stiles. Tell them the incompetents are them. Tell them you're the best one here. Tell them. TELL THEM!_

"No."

Finstock inhaled. "You're lucky, Stilinski, real lucky, that Guardian Tate wastes her time advocating for you, or this decision might have been different. We're giving you the benefit of the doubt. Continue to guard Miss Yukimura. But another mistake..."

"Thank you," said Stiles.

"Oh, I'm not finished," Finstock smiled wickedly. "Because the suspicion isn't entirely removed, and because I can't stand you, you'll be spending your day off this week doing community service."

Stiles jumped out of his chair again. _"What?"_


	39. The Lying Game

The hearing dispersed, and Stiles was left feeling weary and beaten. The room emptied but Malia stayed behind. She sat on the arm of his chair and studied him, thoughtfully. He looked back at her and waited. He knew what was coming. She was going to yell at him for being a big-mouthed, hot-headed, little—

"Come here," she said, taking his hand and pulling him with her.

Stiles hadn't expected that. They walked toward a side door. "Where are we—wow."

They stepped through the doorway to a little glass-enclosed porch. The air felt chilly, but Malia stayed close and Stiles could feel the warm coming from her body. Since she didn't look mad or anything, Stiles felt bold enough to pass an arm around her. She let him.

Stiles felt warm and safe just being with her. She brought comfort after his terrible day. So often with other people, he liked to be the center of attention, to be funny and always have something clever to say. But with her, he never felt like he had to say or do anything. He didn't have to entertain her or think up jokes or even flirt. It was enough to just be together, to be so completely comfortable in each other's presence that they lost all sense of self-consciousness.

"What happened out there?" she asked at last, turning to face him. "You did not crack under the pressure."

Her voice was curious, not accusatory. She wasn't questioning him. She simply wanted to know what was going on with him. And that just made it all the worse when Stiles had to lie to her.

"But I did," he said, looking away. "Unless you believe I really did let Harris 'kill' Kira."

"No," she said. "I don't. And Chris doesn't either. He knew you'd be unhappy when you found out about the assignments, but he never once doubted that you'd do what you'd have to for this."

Stiles looked up again and met her eyes, so full of faith and absolute confidence in him. "I didn't. I was mad... Still am. But once I said I'd do it, I meant it. And well, I don't hate her. I actually think she's good for Scott. I was trying to do my job."

"What happened then?" she asked.

Stiles averted his eyes again. "I don't know what happened out there. My intentions were good... I—I just messed up."

"Stiles. Just say you don't want to get into it then. Don't lie to me."

Stiles glanced up. "Damn it. I used to be good at this. I've told a lot of good lies in my life. People have believed them."

She smiled slightly. "I'm sure."

Stiles realized there was only two things to be done: he could either start a making out session in danger of being discovered or he could simply go away.

He took a step away from her. Malia didn't move. Normally, Stiles treasured every minute with her, but he couldn't stick around today. "I don't want to get into it," he shrugged, apologetically.

Malia sprung forward and held his wrist. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I'm sure you have good reason. But if there's something wrong—"

"Malia, what happened with Harris was nothing," he said, now with more certainty. "It was an accident. It won't happen again. And I'll take care of everything."

She just looked at him, and the expression on her face was one he'd never seen before. Stiles couldn't interpret it. Was she mad? Disapproving? He just couldn't tell. The fingers on his wrist tightened slightly and then relaxed.

"You don't have to do everything alone," she said at last.

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't you do everything by yourself?"

"That's different."

"How?"

Malia pressed her lips together. She didn't answer the question, but Stiles was suddenly hit with the truth. She did everything alone because she didn't have anyone she trusted. He was often so distracted by the weirdness of their relationship that he rarely thought about her as someone with a life away from him. She was respected by everyone on campus. Teachers and students alike knew her as one of the deadliest guardians here. She seemed to know everyone. But she didn't appear to have any close friends, just coworkers she liked.

Malia was alone an awful lot, he realized.

Stiles gave her a hug that raised her from the ground. "Do you trust me?" He asked in her ear.

"Yes."

"Then don't worry about me."

There was a noise in the other room and the two of them sprung apart really fast. Stiles headed to the door. It was better this way. Malia didn't say anything more or try to stop him.

* * *

Everyone already knew about what had happened to Stiles. The students moved about in the corridors without hiding their glances and whispers.

With no psychic link to Kira, Stiles had no clue where to find her. He could sense that Scott was in the library and figured that would be a good place to start looking.

A voice called from behind him: "Took things a bit far, yeah, Stilinski?"

Stiles turned around and saw Aiden. He knew just then what was the appropriate response. "With your mom?"

Aiden made a face. "With Yukimura. I heard that when Harris attacked, you said, 'please, kill her,' and walked away."

Stiles groaned. "That is not what happened."

"Oh no?" Aiden asked. "Then why did you get called in to see Chris?"

"None of your business, Braid. Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend? Since you're always so concerned she's gonna try to run away with me?"

Aiden's smile faded. Anger glinted in his eyes. "At least I'm not a whiny little bitch who refused to fight. You never get it right, do you, Stiles? The way I hear it, you didn't do such a great job out there either, at least not as far as Erica Reyes was concerned."

Stiles had been trying to keep the anger inside all day. While he was with Malia, it was easier. Here and now, the Trickster could control the thermometer. Stiles grabbed Aiden's shirt and shoved him against the corridor wall. The half-breed hit his head and looked a little dizzy. His eyes widened in shock.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed.

"Furthering your education," Stiles said threateningly. "Sometimes places aren't as easy to secure as you might think."

"You're crazy! You can't hurt a half-breed. If the guardians find out—"

"Pay attention because I'm only gonna say it once: danger can come from anywhere. Not just Vampires — or guardians dressed up like them. Keep acting like an arrogant asshole who thinks he knows everything" — Stiles pulled him forward and then shoved him back into the wall — "and you might miss something. And those things can really get you killed."

Aiden's novice guardian suddenly appeared. "What are you doing? Get your hands off him. You're scaring him!"

Stiles looked at the novice. "I'd be scared too, if my life was in _your_ hands."

Someone clapped very dramatically. The smell of perfume alerted Stiles to Lydia's presence. "This is truly fascinating," she said, her voice as lazy as usual. "But I think you've made your point."

"I don't know," said Stiles. "I still don't think your boyfriend gets it."

"For God's sake! I get it," cried Aiden. "Just let go of me."

Lydia got closer. "Yes, little guardian. Let him go. You're done here."

Stiles wanted to tell her to get away from him, that he would be the one to say when this was finished. But then he realized those weren't his words. It was the Trickster. Stiles moved his arm and stepped away. Aiden looked stunned. Lydia asked him to go wait for her somewhere else. Slowly, everyone sort of walked away.

"You can't let it control you like that," Lydia whispered.

"He's not in control."

"So that was you? Tackling a half-breed in the hall just to soothe your own hurt pride?"

"He had no right to say those things."

"I don't even know what 'those things' are, Stiles, but unless I've misjudged your age, you're too old to be throwing a tantrum over idle gossip."

"Throwing a—"

Suddenly, Scott was there. His face and feelings told Stiles trouble was coming. Boyd stood a couple feet away from him. "Did you get suspended?" Scott asked. His words were calm and polite, but Stiles could read his underlying feelings. Annoyed. Even a little angry.

"Not this time," said Stiles. "Just got stuck with community service." Scott said nothing. Stiles sighed. "Look, I know you're mad."

Scott shook his head, exasperated, and fixed Stiles with an accusatory glare. "I can't believe you're seriously still mad enough to do something like that to her. It's childish."

He couldn't believe Scott had jumped to that worst conclusion. "I didn't do it on purpose! I just sat through a whole hearing on this crap and told them the same thing."

"Then what happened?" Scott demanded. "Why did you do it?"

Stiles hesitated, unsure what to say. There were two people he trusted more than anything: Malia and Scott. He'd already held back from telling her the truth. Would he do the same with Scott?

Through the bond, Stiles felt Scott's mind, pure and clear. There was no taint, no darkness, or sign of madness — and yet, something tingled in the background. A slight stirring.

"I froze," he said finally. "It's stupid. I don't know. I just couldn't react. It—it's really embarrassing."

Scott studied him intently, looking for any sign of dishonesty. But whereas Malia could clearly see when Stiles was lying, Scott couldn't. "I wish I could read your mind," he mused.

"You know me, man. Do you really think I'd do this? Abandon Kira and make myself look stupid on purpose?"

"No," he said finally.

"Even I make mistakes, okay? I know it's hard to believe — kind of surprises myself — but I guess it has to happen. It's probably some kind of karmic way to balance out the universe. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fair to have one person so full of awesomeness."

Lydia was still watching them, her eyes narrowed slightly as if she was seeing more than just them.

Scott rolled his eyes, but the anger lightened.

"My loyal bodyguard returns," Kira declared, walking up to them. She glanced at Scott. "Are you done, boyfriend?"

"Done with what?"

"Giving Stiles a hard time about how he threw me into the deadly clutches of Adrian Harris."

Scott nodded. "Yes, girlfriend."

Lydia said brightelly. "I think I've figured it all out. This was a scam, wasn't it? A scam to scare me off since I'm always talking about you being my guardian. You thought if you pretended to be a bad guardian, I wouldn't want you. Well, it's not going to work, darlings, so there's no point in risking anyone else's life. The little guardian will be mine."

At that, everyone managed to let out a laugh. But Stiles still had something important to say; something that would completely ruin everybody's mood. Four sets of eyes — even Boyd's — turned to him.

There was really no easy way to tell them, so Stiles just pushed forward. "Turns out that Gerard Argent was never found guilty of what he did to us. He's just been locked up. But they're finally going to have an official trial — in another week or so."

Shock shot through the bond, followed immediately by fear and anger. A slide show of images flashed through Scott's mind. The way Gerard made him question his sanity. The Mareo. The Pixie. The Chupacabra. The Akkadian Scorpion. The torture. The bloody state he'd found Kira.

Scott clenched his fists, knuckles going white. Kira moved her hand over his. "But... but..." Scott took a deep, steadying breath, fighting to stay calm. "How could he not be guilty already? Everyone knows... They all saw..."

"It's the law. They supposedly have to give him a fighting chance."

"So... Wait—Are you saying there's a chance they might not find him guilty?"

"This is bullshit," said Kira.

"This is politics," said Lydia. "People in power never have to play by the same rules."

"But he nearly killed us all!" said Scott. "How can there be any question?" Scott's emotions were all over the place. Fear. Sorrow. Anger. Outrage. Confusion. Helplessness. Stiles didn't want him delving into those dark feelings and hoped desperately that he'd grow calm again.

Hoping seemed to work. He could feel the anger slowly, steadily, leaving Scott. But that's when thing got weird. Because the anger wasn't just disappearing, it was moving — moving fro Scott to Stiles.

Suddenly, he felt so angry he could barely breathe.

Lydia was staring at him. "It's a formality, I'm sure," she said. "When all the evidence is in, there probably isn't—"

"They're not going to have all the evidence since we aren't allowed to go."

"What?" exclaimed Kira. "Then who's testifying?"

"The other guardians who were there. We apparently can't be trusted to keep the whole thing quiet. The queen doesn't want the world to know that one of her precious royals might have done something wrong."

Lydia didn't seem to take offense at Stiles trashing her mom. She was still staring at him which was starting to piss him off.

That black mood had seized him again, and listening to Scott and Kira rage over Gerard's trial wasn't really helping. Stiles wanted to go over there and yell at everyone involved until they agreed they could go.

But that wasn't Stiles — it was _him_. There he was again trying to take control. But Stiles wouldn't let him. It was his body. Stiles was in charge. Stiles wasn't trespassing.

His first duty was to protect half-breeds and not give into his own impulses.

Over and over, he repeated the guardian mantra: _They come first._

 _Tsk tsk,_ the Trickster said. _Those words are really starting to annoy me._


	40. The Usual Suspects

When it was time for bed, Stiles followed Kira to her bedroom. She cleared a spot on the floor for him, and by the time she returned from brushing her teeth, Stiles had made himself a cozy bed out of blankets.

After several minutes in the dark, he called her name.

"This is the time when we sleep, Stiles."

"I just have one question."

"Is it about Gerard? Because I need to sleep, and that's just going to piss me off again."

"No, it's about something else."

"Okay, shoot."

"Why didn't you make fun of me over what happened with Harris? Everyone else is trying to figure out if I messed up or did it on purpose. But you didn't say anything."

More silence fell, and Stiles hoped she was thinking about her answer and not falling asleep.

"I know you didn't do it on purpose."

"How?"

"Because I was there, remember?" she whispered. "I was with you in that horrible basement."

Stiles felt that metallic taste in his mouth. Kira knew. She understood. "You're like the first person who actually believes I just messed up without any ulterior motives."

"I don't believe that either. Weren't you listening? I _saw_ you in Spokane, Stiles. Someone like you doesn't mess up or freeze. And I saw your face out there. I don't know what happened, but the look on your face... It scared e a bit. You were completely consumed by something only you could see."

Stiles was quiet, trying to push the memory away from his head.

"It's none of my business anyway," she added. "But if it was big enough to take you over like that, then it must be serious. And I know you'll keep me safe when the time comes. I _feel_ safe with you." She yawned. "And now that I've bared my soul, can we please go to sleep?"

Stiles soon gave into exhaustion himself. Once heavily asleep, he began to dream. He stood in a garden in the middle of summer. Flowers of every color bloomed around him. He wore jeans and was shirtless, his _Nazar_ visible around his neck. Lydia was also in jeans and wore a tank-top that showed her belly button.

"Does your boyfriend know we keep meeting like this?" he joked.

She gave him a lazy smile. "Does your girlfriend?"

Stiles bit his tongue. He didn't know exactly what Lydia thought she knew about him and Malia, but he was decidedly not going to give anything away. "I hope this is important."

"Your aura today was like a storm cloud."

"Okay, for once, can we please not talk about auras and my impending doom?"

The look in her eyes told him that was the only thing she wanted to talk about. "This is my mother's garden," she said instead.

"Great."

"She's not so bad, you know."

"I'm sure. Can I go now?"

"If that's what you want."

Stiles was about to say that that was all he wanted when something came back to him. "Hey, Lydia... how do you know if you're crazy or not?" He could feel the Trickster asleep deep inside of him. His presence was getting stronger.

Lydia turned unusually serious. "Do you think you're crazy?"

"I don't know," he said, looking down at the ground. "I've been... seeing things."

"You haven't seen crazy," she said, in this very scary way. "Besides, people who are crazy rarely question whether they're crazy."

"That doesn't really help me."

"I know you're not crazy, Stiles. And I would know."

The garden faded, and Stiles fell back into the normal blackness of sleep.

* * *

For the next few days, he followed Kira around without incident. He didn't know if it was him or the Trickster, but Stiles was growing more and more impatient. For one thing, he was discovering that a lot of being a guardian was waiting around. Time could pass — years could pass — without a guardian ever having to engage in any sort of conflict. He needed to be patient, something he was never good at.

And Stiles was desperate to prove himself, to make amends for not having reacted when Harris attacked. He wanted — needed — to prove he wasn't crazy or inept.

When Kira met up with Scott after class, Stiles felt worry and fear and anger radiating off his friend. But to all outside appearances, Scott looked fine. He told Stiles he had played diplomat and very politely asked Chris about the possibility of testifying.

"He said it was out of the question," he resumed. "I figured if we just explained things — why it was so important — they'd let us go."

Kira slipped her arm around his waist. "We're gonna find a way, Scott. All you need to do is—"

It was _déjà vu._

Harris leapt out from a copse of trees and reached for Scott, wrapping his arm around his torso and jerking him toward himself. Stiles responded instantly, no hesitation whatsoever as he moved to 'save' his friend.

The only problem was that Boyd had responded instantly too, and he was closer, which put him there ahead of Stiles. Stiles circled, trying to get in on the action, but the way the two were squaring off blocked him from being effective.

Boyd came at Harris from the side, fierce and swift, pulling Harris' arm away from Scott with a strength nearly powerful enough to rip it out of the socket. Scott wriggled free and ran to join Kira behind Stiles. Without missing a beat, Boyd grabbed Harris and threw him down to the ground.

Harris laughed, genuinely pleased. "Nice job, Mr. Boyd."

Boyd helped his instructor up. "Thank you, sir."

Harris glanced at Scott. "You okay, McCall?"

"Fine," he said, and Stiles could sense that he'd actually enjoyed the excitement.

Harris' smiling face disappeared as he turned his attention on Stiles. "Stilinski, what were you doing?"

Stiles tried to swallow. "What do you mean? I was ready to back him up, looking for a chance to join in."

"Yes," he agreed. "That's exactly the problem. You were so eager to get a punch in that you forgot that you had two half-breed behind you. They might as well have not existed as far as you were concerned. You're out in the open, and you had your back to them."

Stiles glared at him. "That is not fair. If we were in the real world and a Vampire attacked, you cannot tell me that another guardian wouldn't jump in and do everything they could to take that Vampire down as quickly as possible."

"But you weren't thinking about eliminating the threat efficiently. You weren't thinking about your exposed half-breeds. You were thinking about how quickly you could do something to redeem yourself."

"Wh—what? Aren't you making a few leaps there? You're grading me on what you think was my motivation. How can you be sure what I'm thinking?"

"I know you," he replied mysteriously as he walked away. "Even if you don't know yourself."

Stiles' mouth was hanging open, and he couldn't even get any words out at first. "How on earth can I be failing this?"

Nobody had an actual answer for that.

When it was time for them to go their separate ways, Kira planted a kiss on Scott's cheek and then left. Stiles followed. Kira was silent for the rest of their journey. Then, eventually, she said: "Did you notice how Lydia Martin spends a lot of time staring at Scott?"

Stiles looked at her. "She's just a little... weird. She stares at me too."

"And I thought she was into you. But now—"

"Now you think she's after Scott?" Kira made a face. "It's just this thing with her, you know?" he said. "She knows stuff. And she wants to understand the bond."

"I know," she said tightly.

"So no reason to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous! I'm just—"

"—feeling insecure over the fact that your boyfriend is spending a lot of time with a rich, super cute girl whom he might like? Or, as we like to call it, jealous?"

Kira turned away. "People wouldn't stare if he showed up at some party with her."

"Ah-ha. So this is what it's really about."

She sighed. "I'm just not good at those kinds of social things," she admitted in a rare show of vulnerability. "And I think Lydia's got a better reputation than me."

"Are you serious?"

"Please, Stiles. Flirting and having crazy visions is not even in the same league as people thinking you're going to turn into a Vampire. I saw the way everyone acted when Scott took me to dinners and stuff at the ski lodge. I'm a liability. He's the only representative from his family. He's going to spend the rest of his life tied up with politics, trying to get in good with people. Lydia could do a lot more for him than I could."

Stiles couldn't believe he was having that conversation. "I can see where you're coming from, but there's one flaw in your airtight logic: there's no way that's ever gonna happen!"

"Stiles is right," an unwelcome voice said behind them. Preparing his best glare, Stiles turned around to face Aiden. But it was actually his brother. "Lydia's with Aiden," Ethan said. "So you've got nothing to worry about, Kira. Besides, you're still royal. You have every right to be with Scott. The Yukimuras and the Hales have been kind of quiet lately, but they used to be one of the strongest families out there. They could be again — especially you. You're not afraid to do things that you aren't supposed to. You could make the right friends and go far."

"Thanks," Kira said, a slight sneer curling her lips. "Now that you've endorsed me and my family, I can finally get on with my life. It's the only thing that's been holding me back."

"Some of us have been getting together," Ethan continued. "We've formed a group — sort of a way for the half-breeds to unite, you know? Things are kind of crazy with those Vampire attacks. We must lean to protect ourselves. I think you'd like what we've learned to do. Join us, Kira."

Stiles laughed. Ethan sounded like a religious freak. Kira simply looked uninterested. "I take back what I said earlier," she told him. "This is what I've been waiting for my whole life. An invitation to join your tree house club."

She seemed considerably cheered after that. Nothing like a confrontation with an asshole to make you feel better about your love life.

When the service ended that Sunday, Stiles had to stick around the chapel, because that was where his community service was going to happen. When the place had cleared out, he was surprised to see one other person had lingered with him: Malia.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Thought you might need some help. I hear the priest wants to do a lot of housecleaning."

"This is your day off!" The guardians had worked specially hard the last week and most of them — Malia included — had some bruises to prove it. He assumed she'd probably be glad for the rest.

"And I can't think of a better way to spend it."

"Reall? I could think of a hundred other things," Stiles noted dryly. Then he got it. "Oh, that's sweet. You mean me. You want to spend the day with me."

Malia made a face. "Don't make the priest wait."

The priest thanked them for being there and explained what he needed from them. He needed a regular cleaning of the chapel and then he'd like to sort the boxes of old supplies he'd sitting up in the attic."

Stiles was happier he wouldn't have to do it alone. It was going to be a whole day of Malia.

As they cleaned, he noticed the priest was in the mood for chatting. Stiles tried to think of a hundred things to say when he recalled something he needed to ask. If he had the courage...

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

The question clearly surprised everybody. A bemused expression crossed the priest's face, and he paused in his work. "Well... it depends on how you define 'ghost.'"

"The whole point of this is that when you die, everything ends, right? That makes ghosts just stories."

"There are old stories," the priest said. "From Eastern Europe, before the spread of Christianity. Those traditions have long upheld the idea of spirits staying around for a short time after death — particularly if the person in question died young or violently."

Stiles froze. His hands started sweating. His eyes stung.

"Why?" he asked in a small voice. "Why would they stay? Is it... is it for revenge?"

"I'm sure there are some who believe that, just as some believe it's because the soul has trouble finding peace after something so unsettling."

"What do you believe?"

The priest smiled. "I believe the soul separates from the body, just as our fathers teach us, but I doubt the soul's time on earth is anything the living can perceive."

 _Young or violently,_ the Trickster mused. He'd been oddly quiet lately.

Both applied to Erica. That sad, sad face came back to Stiles, and he wondered what it had meant. What did she want? What did she need?

Revenge?

Or could she truly not find peace?

 _Maybe she wants to join us in here,_ joked the little voice in the back of his head.


	41. The Split Head

The last thing the priest wanted was for Stiles and Malia to carry some boxes back to campus. "Leave them off at the half-breed dorm there."

"Why are you interested in ghosts?" Malia asked as they headed out.

Stiles tried to shrug and almost dropped everything he was carrying. "Just making conversation."

"I've already told you lying isn't the appropriate response when you don't want to tell the truth."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"And a bad one."

"Jeez, everyone thinks the worst of me lately. Harris accused me of glory-seeking. The school just seems so caught up in rules and policies that don't have anything to do with real life. I don't know if this really prepares us."

He expected her to argue, but Malia said, "I know."

Stiles tripped and almost fell he was so surprised. "Really?"

"Yes. I think the field experience should actually be in the field."

They entered the building and put the boxes down, but there was no one at the desk. Malia went to look for the person who wanted the boxes.

Stiles glanced around and nearly jumped when he saw a half-breed only a couple feet away. He was standing so perfectly still, it was hard to notice him. He was maybe a year younger than Stiles, but he was also way taller. His hair was a cloud of curls. His eyes widened when he saw Stiles looking at him.

He cleared his throat and reached out a hand. "Stilinski," he said. "I mean, that's your name. Not my name. I just know who you are. I'm not you." He covered his mouth as if trying to force the words to stop coming out.

"Yeah. I'm me," Stiles said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Everyone knows you," the guy continued. "I mean, everyone heard about you. You're the one who ran away. And then you came back and killed those Vampires. That is so cool. Did you get your marks?"

"Yeah. Two."

His eyes grew wider. "Wow."

"What's your name?"

"Lahey. Isaac," he said. "I mean, just Isaac. Actually, you can call me whatever you want."

"Right," Stiles said, hiding a smile. "Isaac's good."

He seemed excited. "I heard half-breeds used magic on that trip to fight. Is that true? I want to do that. I need someone to teach me. I'm an Encantado, you know?" He turned red as if he thought it was something to be ashamed of. "Do you think I could? Everyone says I'm crazy."

Stiles tried to remember anything about Encantados, but failed. "You should talk to Kira Yukimura."

Isaac gaped. "Would she talk to me?"

"If you bring up fighting the establishment, yeah, she'll talk to you."

"Cool! Was that Guardian Tate?" he asked, switching subjects abruptly.

"Yeah."

"Wow, she's pretty. She's your teacher, right? Like, your own personal teacher?"

It was Stiles' turn to blush. "Yeah."

"You know, you guys don't even act like teacher and student. You seem like friends. Do you hang out when you're not training?"

"No!" Stiles swallowed too fast and choked. The Trickster snorted. "Er, well, kind of. Sometimes."

Isaac smiled. "I knew it! I can't even imagine that — I'd be freaking out all the time around her. She's so cool. I'd never get anything done, I'd just stare at her. But you're so cool about it all, kind of like, 'Yeah, I'm with this totally hot girl that can kill me in a blink, but whatever, it doesn't matter.'"

Stiles laughed at that. "I think you're giving me more credit than I deserve."

"No way. Oh, hey, is it true that you and Lydia Martin are—"

"No," Stiles interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest. "Whatever you heard, it's not true."

"Okay, but hey, can you teach me to punch someone?"

"Why would you want to know that?"

"Well, I figure if I'm going to fight with magic someday, I should learn to fight the regular way too."

Stiles hesitated. "I'm probably not the right person to ask," he told him.

"Well, I've asked all my teacher and they said no!" His face looked distraught. "Come on, it could help me fight a Vampire someday."

"It really wouldn't."

Isaac bit his lip, still desperate to convince Stiles. "Maybe not. But it would at least help against that psycho."

Stiles stared. "What? What psycho?"

"Haven't you noticed? People keep getting beat up around here. Half-breeds everyday showing up with bruises and broken noses."

"Do you know who's been doing it? Or why?"

Isaac shook his head. "Nobody says anything about it. It's like _Fight Club_ , you know? One of my classmates was all bruised up yesterday — had some weird things that looked like welts, too. Maybe burns? But was also in a really good mood — which was weird, since you'd kind of think getting beat up would bring you down."

Somewhere in the back of Stiles' mind, his words tickled a memory. There was some connection Stiles should be making, but he couldn't quite grasp it. The Trickster also raised his head with interest. It seemed like the more disgrace he could sell, the more powerful he felt.

"So can you teach me so that I won't get beat up?" Isaac insisted. He balled his fist up. "I just do this, right? Thumb across the fingers and swing?"

Fortunately, Malia came back just then with two other man who grabbed the boxes and took them away.

"This is Isaac," Stiles told her. "He knows who you are."

Malia smiled and shook his hand. Isaac blushed like crazy. "Wow", he kept repeating. Then he was called by someone and had to go.

"He knew who I was too," Stiles told Malia as they went outside. "He had kind of a hero-worship thing going on there. It was scary."

"Does that surprise you?" she asked. "That younger students would look up to you?"

"I don't think I'm _that_ good of a role model."

"I disagree."

Stiles gave her a sidelong glance. "If you think I'm so freaking awesome, why won't you help me go to Gerard's trial?"

Malia groaned. "Stiles—"

 _Why can't she understand how important this is to you?_ said the Trickster.

"Why can't you understand how important this is to me?" said Stiles.

"I do understand," she replied.

"And if he gets loose, he'll just start in on his crazy plans again."

"It's really unlikely he will get loose, Stiles. Most of those rumors about the queen letting him off are just that: rumors. You should know not to—"

"You should let us go!"

"Stiles—"

"Or you should at least let Scott go."

Malia stopped walking so she could look at him. "You're right. He should be there," she said, face serious. "But again, it's nothing I can do anything about. You keep thinking I can control this, but I can't. I have no authority over this."

 _Mmmmm, but did she really try, Stiles? Did everything she could?_

"Did you try?" he asked. "There must be something you can do. Anything."

Malia was quiet for a second. "All I have is a high position in a high school so they can keep their eyes on me at all times."

They way she said it, made Stiles stop. He hadn't thought about it that way. He never thought her job here was so she could be watched.

 _It still seems like a good job, though, doesn't it?_

Or was it punishment for being caught in her room with Matt Dahler? Maybe they didn't trust her as much as he thought they did.

 _Not yet._

"This is a probation of sorts," she said, confirming his thoughts. "A test. The first great thing they offered me was Scott, and it was only because they knew I'd have to wait until he graduated."

Stiles stared at the ground. "Sorry," he muttered.

"I did actually speak up for you," she said. "They wouldn't listen."

"What if—" Stiles stopped himself. There was a moment of silence in which he tried to fight the Trickster. He couldn't. "What if he says something about us? You know he knows."

"He doesn't know anything," Malia said. "And besides, Gerard has bigger things to worry about."

"Yeah, but you know him. If he feels like he's lost all hope of getting off, he might decide to bust us just for the sake of revenge."

Malia knew he had a point. "Then we'll have to deal with that as best we can," she said at last. "But if Gerard's going to tell, he's going to do it whether or not you're there." Stiles kept quiet, trying to stop the words that were flooding his ,mind. "Stiles, it won't make a difference."

"It'll make a huge difference!" he burst, exasperated. And the Trickster added: "And you don't seem to get it."

"I do get it. Do you really think I want to see Gerard loose?"

 _Finally — finally — some emotion out of her!_

"But I told you, I've done all I can do. And unlike you, I don't have the luxury of making a scene when things don't go my way."

 _Ahhh, now you see it, Stiles? That's what she thinks of you._

"Why did you come today?" Stiles demanded while the Trickster jumped up and down, clapping excitedly. "Why are you here?"

"You know why I'm here."

"I don't think I believe you," the Trickster answered for him. "I think you want to spy on us. Figure out what happens inside our head. Make sure we don't get into any trouble!"

Malia stared at him, this time open-mouthed. "Our head?" she said back to him in a whisper.

Stiles swallowed hard. Had he really said that? He frowed. Then shook his head. He tried to get his bearings. Then he turned his back at her and walked away. He didn't look back, his feelings a tangle of confusion and anger.

Had he used those words? Out loud? Without realizing? That was too much. That was too far.

Could it be that the Trickster was so strong now that not even Malia's presence was enough to soothe him?

* * *

The next day, his guardian duties with Kira resumed like nothing had happened. Stiles was yawning a lot. He hadn't been able to sleep well last night, concerned that if he didn't keep absolute control the Trickster would take over.

Trying to keep his mind off it, Stiles decided to tell Kira about what Isaac Lahey had told him.

"It's strange," she agreed. "But even half-breeds get in fights."

"Yeah, but there are some weird connections here."

"Well, you know how it's been. A lot of half-breeds are getting pissed off that others want to change how guardians are assigned and learn to start fighting. People are probably just having conversations with their fists."

"Some more than others."

"Wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened around here," she pointed out.

"That's for damn sure," Stiles muttered. He looked up, pretty sure he could smell bacon. "Let's follow the smell of food, huh?"

Kira agreed. They'd barely stepped into the room when Scott came running up to them, Boyd trailing behind. Excitement lit his face, though the feelings in the bond weren't exactly happy.

"Did you hear?" he asked, a little breathless.

"Hear what?" Stiles asked.

"You have to hurry!" he said. "Kira, go pack your things. We're going to Gerard's trial. Right now."

"What?" Kira and Stiles exchanged brief, startled looks and then hurried off to her room to gather their things.

 _Don't go,_ the Trickster warned Stiles. _Listen to me. Don't go there, Stiles!_

Stiles smiled, for the first time feeling completely in control of his own head. There was nothing the Trickster could do to stop him from going. On this he had no say.

It was Stiles' decision and his alone.

The Trickster crumbled into a little ball of insignificance and hid in darkness.

His alone, yes.

Just Stiles'.

His head.

And no one else's.


	42. The Constant

A couple of half-breeds hurried about, doing last-minute things with the plane and the runway. No one seemed to know what was going on. Scott had simply been told that he, Kira, and Stiles were going to testify and that Boyd could come along to continue his field experience.

There'd been no explanation as to why things had changed, and a weird mix of eagerness and apprehension crackled inside of them. But nothing anyone felt could compare with the war waging inside Stiles. Now that he'd told the Trickster no, Stiles could feel his anger rising.

A few guardians lingered near the steps going up to the plane. Stiles recognized them as the ones who had helped capture Gerard. Malia hovered near the outskirts, and Stiles hurried over to her to ask forgiveness.

She turned toward him, looking uninterested. "For what?"

"For the things I said yesterday. I was being a dick. And... you did it! You really did it. You got them to let us go. If there weren't so many people around us, I would hug you."

Malia's face didn't change. "It wasn't me, Stiles. I had nothing to do with it."

Chris signaled that they could board, and Malia turned away to join the others. Stiles stood frozen for a moment, watching her and trying to figure out what had happened. If she hadn't intervened, then why were they going?

Since doubt is a horrible feeling, it opened doors to worse and the Trickster took his cue to come forward.

 _You can still turn back, Stiles. There's still time._

But Stiles wouldn't be bossed around. He stepped inside the airplane.

 _I'm warning you._

Stiles' head started aching. But he wouldn't let that stop him from watching Gerard be condemned to life in prison.

 _You'll regret it._

"Little guardian! About time you got here." Stiles looked and saw Lydia waving, a drink in her hand. He headed over and sat with her. "We're going to Court," she said. "That's what you wanted. Aren't you excited about it?"

Her voice seemed to be coming from inside a funnel. Stiles' head spun. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

 _Don't go!_

But Stiles was going. He leaned his head against the window. The pain in his skull was still throbbing. It was like the air was pressing in on him.

Lydia, as usual, trying to improve his mood but going the wrong way about it, started talking about auras; a subject Stiles was getting real tired of. Apparently, today his aura was specially dark, the extremities pointy as if he were nervous like a cat or—

"Lydia." It was like a hammer, a hammer inside and outside his head.

"There are special teas you can drink. That ought to help—"

"Lydia." Even his eye sockets seemed to hurt.

"I think some days are worse than others, Stiles. But it'll get better. Maybe if we can figure out a pattern, we can find out what triggers the—"

"LYDIA!" It was the Trickster this time. "WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP FOR FIVE MINUTES?"

The entire plane went silent. People exchanged looks. Lydia had that rare look of astonishment on her face. Chris looked back in his seat. "Stilinski," he exclaimed. "What are you yelling about?"

Stiles gritted his teeth and rubbed his forehead. "I have the worst headache in the world, and I need everyone to shut up!"

Someone whispered something and Kira said: "He hasn't eaten today."

Stiles covered his eyes. He could hear people talking about what could be wrong with him. Maybe some food would help. But Stiles knew it wouldn't. Nothing would work. He knew why it hurt so much.

The Trickster kept saying: _I warned you._

* * *

The Court was a collection of buildings, beautiful and ornate, spreading across well-tended grounds adorned with trees and flowers. They were met by a group of five guardians, all dressed in black pants and matching coats, with white shirts underneath. After some formalities, everyone relaxed and became friendly. They were led to an adjacent building where all guests and dignitaries traveling in and out of the Court stayed. Each got their own room.

Boyd started to protest this, adamantly saying he needed to stay with Scott. Chris smiled and told him it wasn't necessary. The place was so heavily guarded everyone could go their own way without danger. "Now, decompress for a bit and be ready for dinner. Scott, the queen wants to see you immediately."

A jolt of surprise ran through the bond. Soctt and Stiles exchanged brief, puzzled looks. "Sure," he said. "Stiles and I'll be ready."

Chris shook his head. "Stiles isn't going anywhere. The queen specifically asked for you alone."

 _Of course she did,_ laughed the Trickster. _What interest would the queen have in Scott McCall's shadow? Expendable, expendable..._

The dark sentiment startled Stiles, and he struggled to shove it aside. He went to his room, relieved to see it had a TV. The thought of vegging for the next hours sounded fantastic.

He had just sprawled on the leather couch and turned on the TV when Scott walked in, dressed to impress. "Why do you think she wants to see me?" he asked.

Stiles shrugged. "Maybe to explain why we're here." Unease filled Scott, despite his calm exterior. "You have nothing to be afraid of, man," Stiles reminded him. "You haven't done anything wrong. Really, you've been doing everything right. Your grades are perfect. Your behavior's perfect. Remember all those people you impressed on the ski trip? If she gives you any grief, then it's just going to be because she's afraid of you."

Scott laughed. "Why would she be afraid of me?"

"Because people like you better, and she doesn't like it when others steal all the attention. Plus, you're the last McCall. You're always going to be in the spotlight. She's just... Lydia's mom."

Scott sat in front of him. "Why do you always hesitate before saying her name?"

Stiles gave him a look. "I don't. I'm just... She's weird."

"Is that why you yelled at her?"

"Of course not." Stiles felt bad at the memory. "That—that was an accident."

"I think she really likes you," Scott said. "Like, in a wanting-to-be-serious way."

"She's dating Aiden."

Scott made a face. "I've always sort of thought that was only because you said no."

That surprised Stiles. "I didn't say no."

"So you'd say yes?"

"What? No. I'm just saying that we never—I never—"

Scott looked skeptical. "If you say so. But she's not as bad as people think. And..." he hesitated. "Look, I know it hasn't been that long since Erica, but you should think about going out with someone else—"

"Scott. Erica and I were never really going out. You know that."

Scott nodded, reluctantly. "Well, I guess that's more reason to start thinking about dating someone. High school's not over yet. Seems like you should be doing something fun."

"Yeah, I don't really think I need a girlfriend to complete my high school experience," Stiles told him.

"I don't think you do either," he agreed. "But you used to flirt and go out sometimes. I feel like it'd just be nice for you to do a little of that. It's not like you'd have to marry Lydia..."

"Well, you won't get any arguments from her on that. I think the last thing she wants is anything serious." Stiles was joking, but Scott didn't smile or anything.

"Well, according to some of the stories, she's very serious when it comes to you. I heard the other day that you were engaged. Someone else said that she'd been disowned because she told her mom she'd never love anyone—"

Stiles almost choked. "How romantic! Why does this stuff keep happening to me?"

"Because you're awesome, and everyone loves you."

"Ahhhhh. How about you date me then?"

"I suppose, since we're both equally awesome and loveable, it'd be too much for people to take in. Don't you worry though, one of these days—" a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes, "—we'll find a girl you love back." Scott looked at the clock, and his fear returned. "I've gotta go. Will you... will you go with me?"

"You know I can't."

"I know... I meant... like, will you be there? In my head?"

It was the first time Scott had ever asked Stiles to purposely do that. Normally, they both hated that situation.

"Sure," said Stiles. "It's probably better than anything on TV anyway."

Scott left and Stiles relaxed on the couch. Clearing his thoughts, he opened himself up to Scott's mind. Amazingly, the Trickster didn't try to stop him.

Scott had just reached the parlor the queen was waiting in. Natalie sat in an ordinary armchair, looking more like a corporate businesswoman than any sort of monarch. She wasn't alone. A tall, stately half-breed whose red hair was laced with silver sat near her. Stiles recognized her: Tina Braid, the queen's adviser and the twins' mother.

Lydia was there too. She reclined on a small love seat, seeming completely oblivious to the company.

"Scott McCall," someone announced.

Natalie nodded in acknowledgment. "Welcome, Scott."

Scott sat down near Lydia. Natalie sipped from a teacup and scrutinized Scott from head to toe.

Tina Braid broke the awkward silence. "Remember what I said about him?" she asked cheerfully. "He was very impressive at our state dinner in Idaho. Settled a huge spat over half-breed fighting with guardians."

A frosty smile crossed Natalie's cold features. "Everyone seems impressed with you, Scott. I hear nothing but good things about you, in spite of your past transgressions... which I'm given to understand weren't entirely without their reasons. Lydia's been filling me in on all things."

"Not all things," Lydia muttered.

"You know," said Tina. "With your status, Scott, after you graduate you can pretty much choose any guardian you like."

Scott frowned. "I've already did."

"Did you really?" she snapped her tongue.

"Begging your pardon, Mrs. Braid, but I—" Scott hesitated. "Are you offering me more guardians?"

A slight tension built in the room.

"What if I am?" asked Natalie with narrowed eyes.

Scott was nervous, but that didn't stop him. "Everyone knows that there's a certain, um, method to how guardians are distributed. Only the elite get them. Royals. Rich people. People in power."

A chill fell over the room. Natalie's mouth settled into a straight line. "You don't think our royals deserve special protection?" she asked finally. "You don't think you do — the last of the McCalls?"

"I think keeping our leaders safe is important, yes. But I also think we need to stop sometimes and look at what we're doing. It could be time to reconsider the way we've always done things." Scott sounded so wise and so self-assured. Stiles was proud of him.

Natalie sipped her tea. "I understand," she said, "that you're also in favor of half-breeds fighting with the guardians and attacking the Cold Ones?"

Another dangerous topic, one Scott pushed forward into. "I think if there are half-breeds who want to, they shouldn't be denied the chance."

"Half-breeds lives are precious," said the queen. "They shouldn't be risked."

"The human life is precious too," Scott countered. Tina Braid choked on her tea. Lydia raised her head. "If they fight with half-breeds, it could save everybody. And again, if half-breeds are willing, why deny them? They deserve to know how to defend themselves. And people like Derek Hale have developed ways of fighting with magic."

"Derek Hale..." said the queen. "Now, he's a troublemaker. He's starting to gather a lot of other troublemakers."

"He's trying to introduce new ideas." Stiles noticed Scott wasn't afraid any longer. He was confident in his beliefs and wanted them expressed. "Throughout history, people with new ideas — who think differently and try to change things — have always been called troublemakers. But... do you want the truth?"

A wry look crossed Natalie's face, almost a smile. "Always."

"We shouldn't be afraid of change. We _need_ change. I mean, our traditions are important, yes. We shouldn't give up on those. But sometimes, I think we're misguided."

"Misguided?"

"As time's gone on, we've gone along with other changes. We've evolved. Computers. Electricity. Technology in general. We all agree those make our lives better. Why can't we be the same in the way we act? Why are we still clinging to the past when there are better ways to do things?"

Silence hung for a moment.

"You're very interesting to talk to," Natalie said. She made 'interesting' sound like a dirty word. "But I have things I must do now." She stood up, and everyone hastily followed suit, except Lydia. "I won't be joining you for dinner, but you and your companions will have everything you need. I'll see you tomorrow at the trial. No matter how radical and naively idealistic your ideas are, I'm glad you'll be there to complete his sentencing. His imprisonment, at least, is something we can all agree on."

Scott and Lydia were left alone.

"Well done," she said. "Aren't many people who can throw her off-balance like that."

"She didn't seem very off-balance."

"Oh, she was," Lydia smiled. "Believe me. Most of the people she deals with every day wouldn't talk to her like that, let alone someone your age." She stood up and extended a hand to Scott. "Come on, little wolf. I'll show you around this place. Take your mind off things."

Stiles left Scott's head and returned to his own. Sitting up, he discovered he felt surprisingly alert and decided that if Scott and Lydia were going to have fun, he'd be going too.

He headed downstairs, but when he got to the entryway, he saw something that made his jaw drop."

"Hey, Stiles. Look who we found," said Kira, grinning. She and Boyd were standing and talking with another boy, someone Stiles knew very well. So well, in fact, he felt a smile slowly creep over his face.

"Liam."


	43. The Influence

If someone had asked Stiles six months ago, he would have said there was no way he'd ever be happy to run into Liam Dunbar. But everything was different now. Liam was one of the few who understood, who had been in hell with them in Spokane.

Stiles hadn't seen him since Erica's funeral. It felt like years. Liam hadn't grow or anything, but much of his personality had changed. He laughed at Stiles' shock and said, as though he had read his mind: "Come on, it hasn't been that long. You look like you don't even recognize me."

"What are you doing here? In fact, what happened to you? You disappeared after—after—"

"Yeah," said Liam. "But this isn't the place for that. Follow me." He beckoned them out the door.

They went to a neighboring building, and Liam led them to a coffee shop. Sitting in a public place with friends, not worrying about school or Vampires... Stiles almost didn't feel like himself. It was paradise.

"My uncle works here," Liam told them. "And so now I live here. My uncle doesn't want me out of his sight. He's afraid... Well, he doesn't want to lose anyone else. Anyway, I made friends with some of the guardians here. They've been showing me a few things about fighting Cold Ones."

"That's risky," said Kira, though she sounded like she approved. "Since there's still a debate about half-breeds fighting."

"You mean about half-breeds fighting with magic," Liam corrected. "That's what's controversial. No one's really talking about half-breeds fighting hand-to-hand."

"Well, they are," Stiles said. "It's just been overshadowed by the magic controversy."

"It's not illegal," Liam said primly. "And until it is, I'm going to keep doing it. You think with all the events and meetings that go on around here that anyone even notices what someone like me does?"

Stiles studied him, thoughtful. Liam seemed happier and more open than he had during the entire time they'd known each other in Beacon Hills. He seemed... _free_.

"You've changed," Kira said, echoing Stiles' thoughts.

"We've all changed," Liam corrected. "Especially Stiles."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't quite explain it."

The first thing that came to mind was the Trickster's presence. How out of control Stiles'd felt lately, how half the time his actions and feelings didn't seem like his own. Sitting there, it almost seemed like Liam was controlled by all of his positive traits now and—

 _And you're controlled by me_.

 _No. I'm not._

"I don't think there's any way the five of us couldn't have changed," Boyd pointed out. A moment later he corrected himself. "Four of us."

They all fell silent, thoughts of Erica weighing them down.

Scott and Lydia eventually joined them. He was as surprised as everyone else to see Liam but gave him a warm welcome and wanted to catch up.

"How'd your thing with the queen go?" Kira asked Scott. She sounded weird.

"Not so bad," he said. "I mean, not great either. But she didn't yell at me or tried to humiliate me, so that's a start."

"Stop being modest," said Lydia, putting her arm around Scott. "Prince McCall totally stood his ground. You should have seen it."

Scott laughed.

"I don't suppose she mentioned why she decided to let us come to the trial?" Kira asked stiffly. She didn't look very happy about Lydia touching Scott.

"Lydia did it."

"What?" Kira and Stiles asked together.

Lydia, looking very pleased with herself, stayed quiet for a change and let Scott do the talking. "She convinced her mom that we needed to be here. She apparently harassed her until the queen gave in."

"It's called 'persuasion,' not 'harassment,'" Lydia said. Scott laughed again.

"Unbelievable," said Kira.

"I'll second that," Stiles said.

"None of you appreciate me. Why is it so hard to believe that I could make a real contribution in these dark times?" Lydia blew them a kiss and headed outside.

As soon as she left, Kira asked Scott, "Were you getting drunk with her?"

"I'm not drunk. I only had two drinks," he said.

"Well, you smell like a mini-bar."

"Since when did you get all conservative?"

"Since Lydia became a bad influence."

"If it weren't for her 'bad influence' we wouldn't be here. She helped us. No one else was able to do it. She didn't have to, but she did. And you and Stiles are sitting there, acting like she's the most evil person on the planet."

 _You see, Stiles? It always comes down to you._

"That's not true," said Stiles. "I'm just sitting here." They both ignored him.

"Because you're acting like she's the greatest!" said Kira. "Or do you really think she did it out of the kindness of her heart?"

"Why else would she do it?"

"Oh, gee, Scott, I wonder."

Scott's eyes widened. "You think she did it for me? You think there's something going on with—"

"You guys drink together and go to elitist events together."

Liam and Boyd looked like they wanted to be somewhere else. Stiles was starting to share the feeling.

Anger burned through Scott, hitting Stiles like a wave of heat. He was utterly outraged. He was deeply upset at the thought of Kira not trusting him. As for Kira... Stiles needed no psychic powers to understand how she was feeling. She wasn't jealous simply because Scott was hanging out with Lydia. Kira was jealous that Lydia had the kind of influence to pull this off for Scott.

Scott's anger was intensifying, muddled with embarrassment as he began to doubt himself and wonder if he had been getting too close to Lydia.

It was time to intervene.

"Guys, for the love of God. If Lydia did this for anyone, it was for me. I practically begged her to do it, even thought I didn't think she'd be able to." Stiles turned to Scott. "Dude, you might not be wasted exactly, but you need to chill out for an hour before having this conversation. You're going to say something as stupid as Kira, and I'll be the one who has to deal with the mess — like always."

It took a second, but Scott relaxed and offered Kira a smile. "Yeah, we should definitely talk about this later. A lot's kind of happened today."

She hesitated as well, then nodded. "Yeah. Sorry I jumped all over you."

"So," Scott asked Liam, "what you've been doing?"

Stiles stared at them in amazement, but no one seemed to notice.

 _There, you see?_ The Trickster teased. _You fixed their fight, and there's been no acknowledgment. No thank you, Stiles, for pointing out how idiotic we're being. I say, it is bad enough you have to endure their romance day after day, with no consideration for how you feel. Now you're salvaging their relationship, and they don't even realize it._

Stiles stood up. "I'll be right back," he said, interrupting Liam's description of someone. Stiles was afraid if he sat there, he was going to say something he'd regret or maybe break a chair.

 _Do you feel it? The rage? It isn't me, I swear. It's all you._

Stiles went outside, hoping a gulp of cold air would calm him down. Instead, he got a face full of clove smoke. Lydia was leaning against the building's brick wall with a cigarette in hand. "Little guardian." She tilted her head to look at his face. "You look awful. What happened? You were fine a few minutes ago."

Stiles paced across the ground in front of her. "I don't know. I was fine. Then Scott and Kira started having this stupid argument over you. It was weird. They were the ones who were mad — and then I ended up madder than both of them."

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "They were arguing over me?"

"Yes. I just said that. Pay attention."

"Little guardian, I understand your demons are worse than anyone else's, but you're starting to piss me off. Always be kind to those who make your dreams come true."

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said and hoped she understood he wasn't just talking about now.

Lydia nodded. "So tell me, whatever did I do to make them fight?"

"Kira's jealous because you hang around Scott so much."

"I do? Why, she's always welcome to join in."

"Yeah, well, no one ever said love was reasonable. Seeing you come back together kind of set her off. And then she got upset because you pulled rank with the queen for Scott."

"That wasn't for him. That was for you. I thought you could use something nice for a change."

"I'm sorry," he said again, growing more and more ashamed for having snapped at her.

"Don't worry about it, little guardian. Don't forget, I can see it," she said enigmatically.

Stiles came to a halt in front of her. For a second he thought she was talking auras again, but then it occurred to him she meant what was happening inside of him. "You—" he choked. "You know—"

The doors opened, and Scott and the others stepped outside.

"Liam's got more important things to do than hang out with us," joked Kira.

"Hey, I just told my uncle I'd meet him. I'll see you guys later." Liam started to walk away, then abruptly turned around. "God, I'm so out of it." He reached into his coat pocket and handed Stiles a folded piece of paper. "This is half the reason I found you guys. One of the court clerks wanted me to give this to you." He waved and left.

Puzzled, Stiles opened the note.

 _Stiles, I was so happy to hear about your arrival. I'm sure it'll make tomorrow's proceedings that much more entertaining. I've been curious for quite some time about how Scott is doing, and your romantic escapades are always an amusing diversion. I can't wait to share them in the courtroom tomorrow. Best, G.A._

"Who's it from?" asked Scott.

Stiles hastily folded it up and shoved it into his pocket. "No one."

 _No one indeed,_ laughed the Trickster.

Stiles made up an excuse to Scott about how he needed to go take care of some guardian stuff, and then rushed to find Malia's room. She was surprised to see him at her door — but glad all the same.

"I have to talk to you," he said.

She let him come in, and he immediately handed over the note.

"What are we going to do? I mean, we talked about this, but now he really is saying he's going to sell us out."

Malia didn't answer, and Stiles could tell she was assessing every angle of this, just like she would a fight. Finally, she pulled out her cell phone. "One sec."

Stiles sat on her bed. He didn't know who she was calling, but the conversation took place in Turkish.

"What's going on?" Stiles asked when she finished.

"We have to wait."

"Great. My favorite thing to do."

Malia went over and sat beside him, then laced her fingers through his.

 _Dangerous_ , warned the Trickster like he cared about them.

But with her, it was easier to ignore him. Everything was that much easier. Comfortable. It was a lot like the old days when they'd first begun training together, way back before everything had gotten so complicated.

"I'm sorry," Malia said all of a sudden.

"For what?"

"For not being able to get you here. Did I let you down?" Stiles glimpsed a shadow of worry on her face, like she was concerned she might have caused some irreparable damage.

The apology totally caught him off guard. For a moment, Stiles wondered if she was jealous of Lydia's influence in the same way Kira had been. Then Stiles realized that was, if not impossible, very unlikely.

"You didn't," he told her. "I was—I overreacted. I was nervous about it. And... in the church, I—"

"What was that, Stiles?" She looked like she no longer could keep from asking. "You keep saying you're fine, but I don't see it. There's something wr—" her cellphone rang. Another conversation in Turkish took place, and then she stood up. "All right, let's go."

"Where?"

"To see Gerard."


	44. The Trial

It turned out that Malia had a friend who had a friend, and somehow, despite the best security in the half-breed world, they managed to get into the Court's prison facilities.

"Why are we doing this?" Stiles whispered as they walked down the hall toward Gerard's cell. "You think we can talk him out of it?"

Malia shook her head. "If Gerard wanted to take revenge on us, he'd just do it without any warning. He doesn't do things without a reason. The fact that he told you first means he wants something, and now we're going to find out what it is."

Gerard was the only prisoner currently being held. He sat in a chair, idly examining his nails. Seeing him again made Stiles's skin crawl. A smile lit his face. "Oh my. This is a treat."

Stiles pressed his face to the bars. "Stop screwing with us, you son of a bitch. What do you want?"

Gerard straightened up in his chair and laughed. "After all this time, he still hasn't learned any control," he told Malia. "But then, maybe you never really wanted him to."

"We aren't here to banter," said Malia calmly. "You wanted to lure Stiles over, and now we need to know why."

"You think I'm joking, but I'm not," said Gerard. "I really do want to know how you're doing, Stiles. You've always been a fascinating subject to me. The only bonded person we know of. I told you before, that isn't the kind of thing you walk away from unscathed. There's no way you can quietly sink into the regimented routine of academic life. People like you aren't meant to blend in."

"I'm not some kind of science experiment."

Gerard acted like Stiles hadn't said anything. "What's it been like? What have you noticed?"

"There's no time for this. If you don't get to the point," warned Malia, "we're going to leave."

Stiles leaned forward and gave Gerard his coldest smile. "Yeah, just say it. Tomorrow they'll sentence you to die behind bars."

Gerard regarded Stiles levelly, still with that amused look. "All things die, Stiles. But I'm more interested about you. Tell me, have you been experiencing... uh, strange things? Have you seen something you don't fully understand? Have you _felt_ someone in there with you?"

Stiles stared at him. He felt cold. Could he know? About the Trickster? About Erica?

His face must have given away something, because Gerard gave him a speculative look. "Ah, yes. You know what I'm talking about."

Stiles hated to ask him for anything. Swallowing his pride, he asked, "Are ghosts real? Can they come out of... wherever they are?"

"Well, clearly some things come out of it, because here you stand before us. _Both of you._ " The way he said it, Stiles was sure he hadn't included Malia.

"He's baiting you," said Malia.

Gerard gave her a brief glare. "I'm helping him understand things you don't know, Guardian Tate. My guess? He hasn't told you. He hasn't told anyone. Why, how could he? How could he begin to explain what is happening inside of him? That inner war that threatens to split his skull apart, every second of every day?"

"Enough," said Malia, voice harsh. "We're going."

"Wait, wait," said Gerard, voice congenial. "You haven't told me about Scott yet."

Stiles moved forward again. "He doesn't have anything to do with this."

Gerard gave him a dry look. "You're wrong — he has everything to do with what's happening to you."

"That is not true," Stiles argued. He would not believe this to be Scott's fault. It was no one's fault.

"You don't see things clearly, Stiles. You never have. You've always been blinded by whatever you're feeling. Always guided by emotion. And that is why this is happening to you. That must've made it so easy for him to take control." The mockery was gone, replaced by a feverish and almost fanatical look in his eyes. "You've forgotten everything, why I did what I did. You've been so caught up in your own shortsightedness that you missed the big picture I was looking at."

Stiles racked his brain trying to thinking back. His focus had been on the wrongs Gerard had committed against Scott personally. "You wanted to stage a revolution — still want to. But that's crazy. It's not going to happen."

"It's already happening. Do you think I don't know what's going on out in the world? I still have contacts. People can be bought off — how do you think I was able to send you that message? I know about the unrest, I know about Derek Hale's movement to get half-breeds to fight with guardians. You stand by him and vilify me, Stiles, but I pushed for the very same thing last fall."

"Derek Hale didn't murder anyone," noted Malia.

"And that's why he's getting nowhere," Gerard retorted. "Natalie and her council are being held back by centuries of archaic traditions. So long as that sort of power rules us, nothing will change. We will never learn to fight. Non-royal half-breeds will never have a voice. And humans like you will continually be sent out to die in battle."

"It's what we dedicate our lives to," said Malia. Stiles could sense the tension in her. She might show better self-control than him, but Stiles knew she was hating every second of that.

"Then your lives are meaningless. And your deaths even more so. You're all but enslaved and don't even realize it. And for what? Tell me, why do you protect us?"

"Because," Stiles faltered. "We need you. To make the world a better place."

"To make the world a better place _for ourselves_ ," Gerard corrected.

Stiles ignored that. "You're important... Your magic is important. And all the amazing things you can do."

Gerard threw his hands up in exasperation. "We used to do amazing things. You humans used to revere us as gods, but over time, we grew lazy. The advent of technology made our magic more and more obsolete. Now, all we do is parlor tricks."

"And what's this have to do with Scott anyway?" Stiles asked.

"Because Scott is a vehicle for change. Our only hope."

Stiles stared incredulously. "You think he's going to lead your revolution?"

"Well, I'd prefer that I lead it — someday," he smiled. "But, regardless, Scott is necessary. I've heard about him too. He's a rising star — still young, certainly, but people are taking notice. All royals aren't created equal, you know. The McCall blood has always been the most powerful — that's why the Vampires have targeted them so consistently. A McCall returning to power will be no small thing. There's no telling what he could do. People are drawn to him with almost no effort on his part."

"Wow," Stiles said. "First you wanted to kill him. Now you actually want him out in the world to use his influence for your own psycho plans. That's beautiful."

"He is the key, Stiles. And like you, he's the only bonded half-breed that we know of. That makes him special. And special makes him dangerous — and very valuable."

"He'll never do anything for you."

Gerard was quieted by that.

"And you're not going to say anything about what you think you know," said Malia, suddenly. "You got what you wanted."

Gerard grinned at her. "What makes you so certain I won't enlighten the world about your romantic indiscretions?"

"Because it won't save you from prison. And if you ruin Stiles, you'll destroy whatever weak chance you had of Scott helping you with your warped fantasy."

Gerard flinched just a little. His eyes glanced between the two of them. "He's not going to leave you alone. I've seen it! There is nothing you can do, Stiles, that will stop him now. He'll take over you and he'll destroy everything you care about."

Stiles felt a chill down his spine. "Where did you see this before? How do you know? What is happening to me?"

But Gerard merely smiled, content to tease him and not give any direct answers.

"Let's go," said Malia. "He isn't going to tell you anything else."

When they got outside, they crossed a wide, beautiful parklike space to get back to their rooms. Glancing at Malia, Stiles saw her staring straight ahead. "Are you okay?" he asked.

That made her stop. "Am I okay? Are _you_ okay? What was that in there? What was he talking about? What is happening to you that is so bad you won't talk about it?"

Stiles was quiet. He didn't want to tell her. He didn't want to tell anyone. Gerard had been right: he didn't have the right words for it. But also he didn't want people to know how close he often was of losing the war. So instead, he smiled and said: "Oh, I'm fine."

"I'm going to punch you in the face," Malia warned.

"Okay, okay. Geez, there is nothing—" he stopped himself. "I've been having some problems but I'm dealing with it. You don't need to worry—"

"It didn't sound like you were dealing with it. It sounded like you're on the brick of losing your mind. So be more specific."

Stiles took a deep breath. "Okay, look. Something happened. I don't know what. All I know is that this whole bonded thing isn't very nice. It does things to me. And I can't... I don't know how to explain it. There's just times when... I don't quite feel like myself. At all."

Malia stared at him. It looked like she knew he wasn't being _completely_ honest but she seemed satisfied for the moment. "But you're okay?"

He knew what she needed to hear. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

"As okay as I can be. Do you think he'll tell everyone about us?"

"No."

They walked in silence for a bit. Malia left him to go to her own room when they got inside.

* * *

Next morning came.

The courtroom was over in the largest, most ornate building. Scott stopped as they walked in, a sea of conflicting emotions swirling within him. Giving him a nudge, Stiles urged him on toward their seats.

The judge sat at the front, but there was no jury. An elevated seat on one side of the room marked where the queen would sit when she arrived. She would be the one who made the ultimate decision.

Moments later, Gerard Argent himself entered the courtroom, led by a couple of guardians. Anger shot through Scott, and the little color that was in his cheeks completely disappeared. Gerard's eyes, narrowed and cunning, looked around the courtroom as though it were a party.

Queen Natalie's entrance followed his. Everyone stood when she appeared and then knelt.

The trial started. One by one, those who had witnessed the events with Gerard gave their account of what they'd seen. Of all the guardians involved, Malia was called last. Her testimony wasn't much different than theirs.

"I was with Mr. Stilinski," she said formally. "He shares a bond with Scott McCall and was the first to sense what had happened."

Gerard's lawyer glanced at some papers and then looked back up at her. "Based on the events, it sounds like there was a delay between when Stilinski discovered that and when you alerted the others, Guardian Tate."

Malia very calmly explained that Gerard had inflicted Stiles with a charm that caused him to attack her. She spoke the words so levelly, it amazed him. Not even the lawyer seemed to notice anything.

"He used the assistence of a Fairy," continued Malia, "whose identity we don't know. But it was enough to cause a great distraction."

Gerard laughed out loud. The judge, an elderly but fierce half-breed woman, glared. "Mr. Argent, please respect the decorum of this courtroom."

Gerard, still smiling, waved his hands in apology. "I'm terribly sorry, Your Honor and Your Majesty. Something in Guardian Tate's testimony just tickled my fancy, that's all. It won't happen again."

Stiles held his breath, waiting for the blow to fall. It didn't. Malia finished her statement, and then Kira was called up. Her part was short. She'd been with Scott when he'd been taken and had been stabbed. Her contribution was being able to ID some of Gerard's guardians as the kidnappers. Once Kira sat down, it was Stiles' turn.

He walked up, hoping he looked calm in front of all those eyes — and in front of Gerard. His version was pretty straightforward and only added a few more details to the story.

Scott was called next. As the victim, he offered the first new perspective thus far, and everyone there grew caught up in his story. It was compelling; no one had ever heard anything like it. People were enraptured and sympathetic. They looked at him like he was that person Gerard had talked about, capable of incredible things. Looking at him there, Stiles could see it too.

Finally, it was Gerard's turn. From the look on his face, you never would have guessed he was on trial. He wasn't angry or outraged. He wasn't contrite. He didn't plead. He looked like they were all hanging out somewhere, like he had nothing in the world to worry about.

Even when answering, he spoke as though he made perfect sense. When the prosecuting lawyer asked why he'd done what he had, he looked at her as though she were crazy.

"Why, I had no choice," he said pleasantly. "Our dutiful queen doesn't seem to realize what's at stake anymore. We need change. We need someone in power who's not afraid to take risks. We need someone that can go face to face with the Cold Ones."

The lawyer was having a hard time keeping the disgust off of her face. "And that's you? You're the one we need to save us? _You_ , who coaxed your own daughter into turning?"

Everyone in the courtroom shifted uncomfortably. In the half-breeds' eyes, one of the most awful things about Vampires was that they were made, not born.

Again, Gerard showed no remorse. His answer was simple. "Katherine made that decision."

"Can you say that about everyone you used to meet your ends? Guardian Tate and Mr. Stilinski had no say in what you made them do."

Gerard chuckled. "Well, that's a matter of opinion. I honestly don't think they minded. But if you have time after this case, Your Honor, you might be interested in hearing about guardian, uh, negligence and all that jazz."

Stiles froze. He'd done it. He'd really done it. Stiles half expected everyone in the room to turn and point at Malia and him. But no one even looked in their direction, though. Stiles realized that was exactly what Gerard had expected; he didn't think anyone would believe him, he just wanted to torture them a little.

The lawyers wrapped up, and it was time for the queen to deliver her verdict. Stiles held his breath again, wondering what she would do. Gerard hadn't denied any of the charges. The evidence was overwhelming.

Natalie Martin found Gerard Argent guilty and sentenced him to life in prison — not this prison they had here, a different one, a real half-breed prison.

Gerard remained calm and amused throughout it all, just as he had yesterday. It was like everything was happening exactly the way he wanted it to.


	45. The Queen's Plans

A gesture from the queen ended formalities. Everyone stood up and began talking while she surveyed the room with a sharp eye, probably taking notes. Gerard's escort started to lead him out. Gerard stopped when he saw Scott.

"Scott, I trust you've been well. I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk. But I'm sure we will next time," he added.

The guard pushed him forward and led him away.

"He's crazy," muttered Scott once he was gone. "I can't believe he said that stuff about you and Malia."

Malia was standing behind him. "Oh, don't worry about it," she said. "There are worst rumors going around the Academy that concern Stiles."

"Ooh, isn't that true," Kira laughed. "Did you hear that one about the engagement? God, I so hope the queen knows about it."

Stiles made a face but Malia smiled and he was relieved she didn't believe in any of those things.

Lydia chose that moment to appear. "My little guardian," she said softly. Then she glanced at Malia. "Gerard said a few, uh, suggestive things."

Stiles stepped away from her. "We're all okay. Thanks a lot."

Lydia smiled wickedly. "Two thank-yous in as many days. I don't suppose I'll get to see any, uh, special gratitude?"

Stiles scoffed. "Nope. You'll just have to dream about it."

Malia rolled her eyes and walked away.

"My dreams are usually very vivid," Lydia whispered in his ear.

They started to leave, and then Tina Braid hurried over to Scott. "The queen would like to meet with you before you leave. In private."

Stiles glanced over to the raised chair where the queen sat. Her gaze was fixed on them.

"Sure," said Scott. In his head, he added to Stiles: _be there._

Stiles returned to his room and tuned in to Scott. They were in the same room as yesterday. Scott and Tina Braid bowed as Natalie entered and waited for the queen to sit.

"Scott, you need to be in the air soon, so I'll make this brief," she began. "I would like to make an offer to you."

"What kind of an offer, Your Majesty?"

"You'll need to go to college soon." She spoke like it was a done deal. "I understand you're dissatisfied with your choices."

"Well..." Scott hesitated. "It's not that I'm dissatisfied, exactly. It's just, all the places half-breeds are supposed to go are small. I mean, I understand it's for safety, but I don't know. I'd like to go somewhere bigger. Somewhere prestigious." Guardians monitored a handful of select colleges in the country so that half-breeds could safely attend them.

Natalie nodded impatiently, like she already knew this. "I'm going to give you an opportunity that no one else has ever been given, Scott. After graduation, I would like you to come live here, at the Royal Court. You have no family, and I think you'd benefit from learning politics right in the heart of our government. Along with this, we would make arrangements for you to attend Lehigh University. It's less than an hour from here. Have you heard of it?"

Scott nodded. "It's a good school, Your Majesty. But, mm, still small."

"It's bigger than the ones half-breeds usually attend," she pointed out.

"True." In his mind, Scott was trying to puzzle out what was going on here. Why was Natalie making this offer? Especially considering how she'd seemed to disagree with him earlier. And why did she want him to live there? "The University of Pennsylvania isn't that far either, Your Majesty."

"That school is enormous, Scott. We couldn't ensure your safety there."

Scott shrugged. "Well, then it probably doesn't matter if I go to Lehigh or one of the others."

The queen looked shocked. So did Tina Braid. They couldn't believe Scott seemed indifferent to the offer. And he wasn't. Lehigh was a step up from what he'd expected, and he wanted to go. But he also wanted to see how badly _the queen_ wanted him to go.

Natalie frowned and appeared to be weighing matters. "Depending on your grades and experiences at Lehigh, we could possibly arrange for you to transfer in a couple years. Again, the safety logistics would be very difficult."

Wow. She _really_ wanted him around.

"I'm very flattered, Your Majesty," he said. "And grateful. But why are you offering me this?"

"As the last McCall, you're a precious commodity. I'd like to make sure your future is secure. And I do so hate to see bright minds wasted. Besides..." She paused, hesitant to speak her next words. "You were right to a certain extent. The half-breeds do have trouble changing. It could be useful to have a dissenting voice around here."

Scott didn't answer right away. He was still analyzing this offer from every possible angle. "Alright," he said, at last. "I accept. Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Excellent," said Natalie. "We'll see that the arrangements are made. You may go now."

The queen made no signs of moving, so Scott bowed again and scurried to the door, still reeling with this news. Natalie suddenly called out to him.

"Scott? Will you send your human friend here to talk to me? Stilinski's boy?"

"Stiles?" Scott asked in astonishment. "Why do you—? Yes, of course. I'll get him right away."

Scott hurried toward the corridors, but Stiles met him halfway. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I have no idea," said Scott. "But good luck."

Stiles went to the same room and found Natalie standing with her hands clasped, posture stiff and impatient. Stiles bowed and glanced around the room. Tina Braid was gone; only a couple guardians remained. Natalie stood up and walked right over to him; her face didn't look happy.

"Mr. Stilinski," she said sharply, "I'm going to keep this brief. You are going to stop this atrocious affair you're having with my daughter. Immediately."

Stiles gaped. "I—What?"

"You heard me. I don't know how far things have gone, and honestly, I really don't want to know the details. That's not the point. The point is that it's going to go no farther." The queen was looking straight at him, hands on her hips, clearly waiting for him to swear he'd do whatever she wanted.

"Mm, Your Majesty... there's been some kind of mistake. There's nothing going on between Lydia and me."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Stiles tried to pretend he didn't. "No, Your Majesty."

"There's no point in lying to me. People have seen you together, here and back at your school. I saw you myself in the courtroom. I've heard all the illicit details about what's going on, and it is going to stop right here, right now. My daughter is not going to run off with some cheap human boy, so you might as well rid yourself of that delusion right now."

"I never thought she was going to—seeing as how we're _not_ involved," Stiles said.

"I know about you," she said. "All anyone talks about are your recent awards and accolades, but I haven't forgotten that it was you who took Scott away. I also know about the trouble you used to get into — I know about the drinking, about the fights, about the women. If it was up to me, I'd pack you up and send you off to some peaceful community somewhere far away. But," she stopped, "your recent... _achievements_ make sending you away impossible. Everyone believes you have some glorious future ahead of you. Maybe you do. Regardless, if I can't stop you from being a guardian, I can affect whose guardian you are."

Stiles stiffened. "Are you threatening me?" She couldn't be serious. Taking him away from Scott during the field experience was one thing, but they were talking about an entirely different matter now.

"I'm just saying I have a great interest in Scott's future. And if I have to protect him from corrupting influences, I will. We can find him another guardian. We can find you another half-breed."

"You can't do that!" Stiles exclaimed. "I'm not doing anything with Lydia. Really. You can't punish me for something I'm not doing." He quickly remembered to add: "Your Majesty."

"I don't want to punish you at all, Stilinski. I just want to make sure we understand each other. Royal half-breeds don't marry guardians. They play with them. And guardians aren't supposed to marry at all. You can try your hardest to change that, but it's a waste of time." She shook her head, like she felt sorry for guardians, but her smug air contradicted any true sympathy. "She may say she loves you now, but in the end, she'll get tired of you. I know my daughter. So save yourself the grief. I'm doing you a favor."

Stiles sighed, suspecting no argument was going to make her believe that he wasn't interested in Lydia. "Look, if you're so certain we can't have a future together, then why are you telling me this? According to you, she's going to throw me away anyway. Your Majesty."

She hesitated for just a second, and Stiles nearly laughed. Despite her trash-talking about guardians, some part of her really was worried that Stiles might indeed be charming enough to seduce Lydia into a disgraceful marriage.

"I like to take care of things before they become messy, that's all. Besides, it's going to make things easier for her and Scott if they aren't dragging around baggage from you."

Stiles' head spun. "Whoa, whoa. What?" His satisfaction shattered into confusion. "Lydia and Scott? Scott? What are you talking about?"

"The two of them are an excellent match," she said. "Despite your bad influence, Scott's grown into a very promising young man. He has a very serious, very dedicated nature that will cure some of her recklessness. And being together would allow—"

"—her to maintain the crown," Stiles guessed. _That_ was it. She didn't want her family to lose the crown, even though the law specifically stated the crown should change families after the death of a monarch. "Wow. Five minutes ago, me marrying Lydia was the craziest thing I'd ever heard. It's just been trumped, however, by the thought of Scott marrying Lydia."

"If they're both here, and in Lehigh, together, I think they'll come around to it. He spends time with her already."

"No, that's Kira. You know, his girlfriend."

"Kira Yukimura?" That condescending smile of hers tightened. "There is no way Scott McCall is going to marry _her_."

"Well, yeah. Not anytime soon. I mean, they're teenagers."

"Not now, not ever," said Natalie. "The McCalls are an ancient and exalted line of royalty. Their last descendant is not going to attach himself to someone like her."

"She's as royal as him," Stiles said, getting angry. His hands were shaking. For whatever reason, her insulting Kira made Stiles angrier than her insulting himself. "She's as royal as Lydia. As royal as you."

The queen snorted. "She is not like us. She's the daughter of someone who purposely became a Vampire. Do you know how many times that's happened in my lifetime? Nine. Nine in almost fifty years. And her parents were two of them."

"Her parents. Not her."

"It doesn't matter. The McCall prince cannot associate with someone like her. That position is simply too prestigious."

"But your daughter is the perfect choice."

"If you're such a smart boy, then you tell me — back at Beacon Hills, how are they treated? How do your classmates view her? How do they view them together?" Her eyes gleamed knowingly. "And that's just a microcosm of society. Imagine it on a bigger scale. Imagine how it'll be when he's active in the government and trying to get others to support him. She'll be a liability. He'll make enemies just because of her. Do you really want that to happen to your friend? They will never accept her. Especially," she paused. "Especially if he does get the crown. A Yukimura queen will never be."

"You're wrong," Stiles whispered but he wasn't so sure anymore.

"And you're very young, Stilinski. You can't see it yet." She moved toward the door. "I have nothing more to say and hope this will be the last time we ever have a discussion like this." And she left.

Stiles went back to his room and found Scott there. "What did she want?" he demanded.

"To congratulate me," Stiles said glibly. "Over my Vampire slayer skills. It was lovely."

"Cool," Scott said. "I mean, what you did was amazing. It was nice of her to recognize what you did."

 _Wasn't it, though?_

"Yeah, I guess," Stiles said fast. "So what's going on?"

"They delayed the plane for a few hours," he shrugged. "And... since we're at the Royal Court... don't you want to wreck it? There's gotta be more to it than a bar and a coffee shop. Seems like we should know this stuff if we're going to be living here."

Stiles loved the idea. A whole day with Scott was all he wanted. Maybe it would even help him forget everything the queen had _really_ said.

"Sure. Where's Kira?"

"She found a spa," Scott said. "I think she'll be there for a while. You think we need her along?"

"Oh, no," Stiles smiled. "We don't need anyone."

"You and me, bro."

"You and me," Stiles agreed. "How much terror can we spread in a few hours?"

A mischievous grin lit Scott's face. "Enough."


	46. The Believers

Kira stood near the entrance to the plane, along with a few of the other guardians. Scott ran off to talk to her, and Stiles went for Malia.

"How was it?" she asked. "I heard you and Scott went for a day of... _fun_."

"It was fun, actually," Stiles said, shrugging. "We pranked some people, clogged a toilet, locked a messenger in the main elevator, and Scott found this gypsy woman who read our fortunes."

Malia seemed interested. "Really? What did she say?"

"Mm, she said Scott was on the verge of a new beginning, a 'rebirth of great power and emotion'. That his life will change in a direction that will... ultimately illuminate the world, I think she said. It was beautiful really."

Malia made a face. "I meant about you."

"Oh, right. Well, it wasn't so cheery."

"What did she say?" Malia insisted giving him a playful push.

"God, you're aggressive," he laughed, dodging. "Uh, she said I will destroy that which is undead. Whatever that means." Malia turned serious. "Don't worry. That woman's a total scam."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because she didn't tell us anything! It was, like, one sentence stating the obvious. I'm screwed and Scott will be a great leader. Who doesn't know that?"

Malia smiled. "Would you be a believer if she'd given you a more interesting reading?"

"Maybe if it was good." When she just laughed, he asked, "But you're taking it seriously. Why? You really believe in that kind of stuff?"

"I..." she bit her lip. "I think people like her have access to knowledge other people don't."

"She's not a half-breed, though, so I'm not really sure where she's getting this knowledge. I still think she's a con artist."

"They're called _vrăjitoare_."

"Vr—what? Is that Turkish?"

"Romanian. It means... well, there's no real translation. 'Witch' is close, but that's not right. Their idea of a witch isn't the same as ours."

Stiles had never expected to have a conversation like this with her. Yes, Malia had given him the _Nazar_ which was very superstitious of her part, but he didn't think it went that far. Maybe it was a Turkish thing? Where was she from again? For half a moment, he thought that if she could believe in something like witches and fortune-tellers, maybe she could handle him seeing ghosts.

"My grandmother's like that," she explained. "That is, she practiced the same kind of arts."

"Your grandmother was a... vr—whatever?"

"It's called something else in Turkish, but yes, same meaning. She used to read cards and give advice too. It was how she made her living. And it was a good living too."

"Was she right? In her predictions?"

"Sometimes. Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you think I'm delusional, but you're too chicken to say anything."

"Delusional's not the word I had in mind," he teased.

Malia put her hands on her waist. "What about cynical? It's not my fault. I grew up with it, so it doesn't seem that strange to me. And anyway... I'm not sure I buy into it a 100 percent."

Stiles watched as Lydia joined the group by the plane, protesting loudly about them not being able to board yet.

"I never thought of you as having a grandmother," Stiles realized. "I mean, obviously, you'd have to. But still..." he babbled. "It's just weird for me, thinking about guardians growing up with a... family. Was it weird having a witch grandma? Was she always, like, threatening to cast spells if you were bad?"

"She threats everyone, yes."

"And she's still alive?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah. It'll take more than old age to kill her off. She's tough. She was actually a guardian for a while."

"Really? So she gave it up to—uh, to stay with her kids?"

"She has very strong ideas about family — ideas that honestly sound kind of sexist to me. She believes we should train and put in time as guardians, but women should eventually return home to raise their children."

"Not the men?"

"No," she said wryly. _"Real men die in battle._ "

"Oh dear. I'll have to remember that."

Malia made a sound almost like 'don't.'

During the trip back, Scott could hardly wait to tell everyone about the news. He started off with how Stiles had been called in to see the queen, excited that the queen had wanted to 'praise' him. Everyone seemed impressed except Lydia. The look on her face told Stiles that she was sure her mom most definitely _hadn't_ called him in for that.

Scott then told them about the offer to live at Court and go to college at Lehigh. "I still can't believe it," he mused. "It sounds too good to be true."

Lydia knocked back a glass of champagne. "Coming from dear mama? It _is_ too good to be true."

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked. "Is he in trouble?"

"What, bodily? Nah. Relax, little guardian. Just keep in mind mom doesn't do things out of the kindness of her heart. Well," Lydia amended, "she's not a _total_ bitch. I think she means it about worrying about the McCalls. She liked your parents. However... You've got radical ideas. She might want to hear different opinions, or she might want to keep an eye on you, keep you from causing trouble."

 _Or maybe she wants you both to get married,_ Stiles silently added.

Kira didn't like any of this. "Lydia's right. They could be trying to rein you in. You should go live with Uncle Derek. You don't have to go to a half-breed school."

"But he'll be safer if he does," Stiles admitted. He started to add more, but just then, that headache from yesterday returned. It was like all the air around them was pressing on his skull. He put his hand on his forehead.

"You're sick again?" asked Scott, worried.

"Have you always had trouble flying?" asked Lydia.

Stiles gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain. He had had an entire day without the Trickster — and what a good day it had been — so much he was almost feeling normal again. But now, there he was, trashing inside his head, making everything—

EXPLODE.

The headache was unbelievable, in a way Stiles hadn't thought that was possible. It felt like the Trickster was trying to rip open his skull to get out.

But that was just the beginning.

Because suddenly, all around him, were faces. Ghostly, translucent faces and bodies — just like Erica's. And _oh God_ , they were everywhere! Stiles couldn't even see the seats or his friends. Just those faces — and their hands. Pale, shining hands reached out for him. Mouths opened like they would speak, and all of those faces looked as though they wanted something from him.

Thicker and thicker the faces grew. While none of them actually spoke, there seemed to be a buzzing in Stiles' ears that grew louder as more and more of them came. Two new figures joined the crowd. They should have blended into the rest, but they stood out: _Scott's parents._

They looked exactly as they had the last time Stiles had seen them, just before the car accident. They wore no marks of their deaths, even though Stiles knew the crash had done horrible things to them. And unlike Erica, they actually spoke.

 _Don't let anyone else in, Stiles. Don't let them in. They all want another chance at life, but you mustn't let them in. Get rid of them. All of them!_

The ghosts started marching toward Stiles, their hands outstretched, their eyes crazed.

Stiles started screaming. He removed his seat belt and stood up trying to push the ghosts away from him. Someone on the plane was talking to him but Stiles couldn't tell who was dead or alive, not when he couldn't see anything but those faces, hands, eyes.

Then Erica was there, solemn and sad. Stiles appealed to her for help.

"Make them go away!" he yelled. "Make them go away!" Stiles waved his arms to fend them off, screaming for someone to help him and make this all stop.

Erica couldn't help him, it was obvious. There was no help. Not from those hands and hollow eyes or the pain that consumed his head. It grew so bad that glittering black spots began to dance across his field of vision. He had a feeling he was going to pass out, and he hoped for it. It would make the pain go away and save him from the faces.

 _You have to save yourself,_ Erica's voice echoed in his ears.

The spots grew bigger and bigger, and soon Stiles could no longer see anything. The faces disappeared, and so did the pain as Stiles fell on the ground.

* * *

Eventually, Stiles woke up in the school's infirmary and found Dr. Deaton looking down at him. "How's my number one patient feeling?"

The details of what had happened came back. The faces. Erica. Rafael and Melissa. The other ghosts. The terrible pain in his head. All of it was gone.

For a moment, Stiles wondered if maybe it had all been a dream. Then he looked beyond Deaton and saw Malia and Chris looming nearby. The looks on their faces saying the events on the plane had indeed been real.

Chris cleared his throat, and Deaton glanced back. "May we...?" Chris asked. The doctor nodded, and they stepped forward. "Stiles..." began Chris uncertainly. He had no clue how to go about this. What had happened was beyond his realm of experience.

Malia took over. "Stiles, what happened?" Before he could utter a word, she cut him off. "And I swear to God, if you say you're fine, I will strangle you." Chris either didn't care about the emotion in her voice or didn't notice.

"We only want to help you," Deaton added.

"I don't need any help," Stiles said. "And I'm fi—I feel better now."

Chris finally regained himself. "No. Why the screaming? What did you mean when you said we needed to make 'them' go away? Who are they?"

Stiles felt cold in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know how to answer.

 _What lies are you_ _going_ _to tell now?_

He was starting to sweat. He was terrified of their reaction.

"Stiles," Malia said softly. "Please."

Something in that cracked him. He stared at her. "Ghosts," he whispered. "I saw ghosts."

Heavy silence fell.

"W—what do you mean?" asked Deaton.

Stiles swallowed hard and tried to hold back the tears. "She's been following me for the last couple of weeks. She won't leave me alone, but I don't know what she wants. I don't know how to help her."

"Who?" asked Chris.

Stiles almost choked. "E—Erica. That's what happened with Harris. She was there, and I didn't know what to do. On the plane... she was there too... but there were others. Too many of them. And the pain." He waited for the others to react.

"Did you know all of them?" Malia asked.

Stiles met her eyes. They were still serious and concerned. "Some. Scott's—Scott's parents were there."

Nobody said anything after that. They all just sort of exchanged glances, hoping perhaps that one of the others might shed light on all this.

Deaton sighed. "Could I speak with the two of you privately?"

The three of them stepped out of the examining room, shutting the door behind them. Only it didn't quite catch. Scrambling off the bed, Stiles crossed the room and stood by the door.

"—obvious what's going on," hissed Deaton. "That poor boy. He's undergoing post-traumatic stress disorder, and it's no wonder after everything that's happened."

"Are you sure?" asked Chris. "Maybe it's something else..."

"Look at the facts: a teenage boy who witnessed one of his friends getting killed and then had to kill her killer. You don't think that's traumatic? You don't think that might have had the tiniest effect on him?"

"Tragedy is something all guardians have to deal with," said Chris.

"Maybe there's not much to be done for guardians in the field, but Stiles is still a student here. There are resources that can help him."

"Like what?"

"Counseling. Talking to someone about what happened can do worlds of good. You should have done that as soon as he got back. You should do it for the others who were with him while you're at it. Why doesn't anyone think of these things?"

"He won't do it," Malia said.

"You should pull him from this entire field experience. Fake Vampire attacks are not the way to recover from a real one," said Deaton.

"No!" Stiles had pushed open the door before he realized it. They all stared at him.

"Stiles," said Deaton. "You should go lie down."

"You can't make me quit the field experience. I won't graduate if you do."

"You aren't well, Stiles, and there's nothing to be ashamed of after what's happened to you. Thinking you're seeing the ghost—"

"I'm not ashamed and I don't think I saw anything. I know I did. Unless you're going to put me in counseling 24/7, you're just going to make it worse. I need something to do. Most of my classes are on hold right now. What would I do? Sit around? Think more and more about what happened? I'll go crazy — for real."

This threw them into an argument about what to do with him. Finally, with some grumbling from the doctor, they decided Stiles would go on half-time for the field experience. He'd do three days of field experience a week, with no night duties. During the other days, he'd have to see a counselor.

How was he going to explain to _someone else_ that there was already too many people inside that head?


	47. The Confession

Chris felt they could still justify passing Stiles on half-time. After a bit more examination, Deaton gave Stiles a clean bill of health and told him he could go back to his dorm. Chris left after that, but Malia stuck around. She sat on the bed with him, too close to justify what she was doing if someone walked in on them. She didn't look happy.

"What?" he said.

She stared. "You scared me," she chastised. "In that plane."

Stiles was stunned. He swallowed, unable to speak at first. There was so much on her face, so many emotions. It was wonderful and frightening at the same time. He then said the stupidest thing possible: "You're not scared of anything."

Malia looked at him and now she seemed furious. "I'm scared of lots of things," she growled. "Stop acting like I'm not human."

Stiles didn't know what to say. She was right. He was always putting her in a pedestal. _All-knowing. Invincible._

"Why didn't you tell Scott? Why didn't you tell me?"

Stiles stared into those dark, dark eyes, those eyes he loved, and suddenly was consumed by doubt. "Would you have believed me?"

She frowned. "Did you lie every time you said you were fine?"

He crossed his arms. "You don't believe me."

Malia was silent for too long.

"That's why," he whispered, utterly and completely disappointed.

Malia stood up and paced around the room. "I'm not sure what I believe anymore, alright? I don't think you're crazy." That didn't sound very genuine to the Trickster. He stood up, ready to leave and avoid a big fight when Malia reached out and grabbed his arm. "Tell me then," she urged him. "Make me believe you."

"You won't." Stiles was confused. Malia knew so much already... Would it be a step too far? Maybe. But didn't he want — _need_ — someone to understand?

"I will try."

That was all she said and just liked that, for the first time in a billion years, Stiles let someone in. They went back to the bed where he told her about his first couple of Erica sightings and the shapes he'd seen on the plane.

Malia had that thoughtful expression he knew so well, the one that said she was turning over all sorts of things in her head. "Why are you so certain these aren't just things you're imagining?"

"Well, at first I did think I was imagining it all. But now... I don't know. There's something about it that feels real... even though I know that isn't actually evidence. But you heard what the priest said, about ghosts sticking around after they die young or violently."

"So you think Erica's back for revenge?"

"I'm not sure. She's never tried to hurt me. She just seems like she wants something. And then... all those other ghosts seemed to want something too; even the ones I didn't know."

Malia gave him a sage look. "You know what."

Stiles bit his lip. "I do. Remember when I told you that—"

 _Are you sure you're going to do this?_ the Trickster asked. He tried to overrule his will over Stiles', which just made Stiles more certain. Yeah, Stiles was ready for this conversation. It was about time.

"—that sometimes I don't feel quite like myself?" Malia nodded, expectantly. "And remember all the crazy things Gerard said?" She nodded again. "Well, he wasn't just being crazy. Ever since—Well, I don't really know when it started, but... There's someone in my head."

He waited for the bomb to drop. He waited for Malia to laugh or slap him or yell at him for being so stupid. But she was quiet, her eyes narrowed as if she was actually trying to see this other person that might be staying in front of her.

"Did you hear what I said?" he asked. "There is this thing — this person — trying to control my head. He messes with what I say, what I do, what I feel. He's this evil little—"

"I know," she said.

Stiles almost chocked. "You know? How can you know?"

"Well, I obviously _don't_ know," she corrected. "I just had my suspicions. I hear people talking. I heard what Gerard said. And I've been trying to put the pieces together because, let's be honest, I think everyone's noticed you've been having this—whatever it's call—"

"The Trickster," he told her. The room seemed to grow colder. "Reddick—that Vampire I killed... He said he could smell it on me. He called it an evil spirit."

Malia was quiet again. Then she suddenly spurn to action. "Okay. You're being _half_ possessed by an evil spirit for sometime, right? So why the ghosts _now?_ Why didn't it ever happen before?"

"I thought of that," said Stiles eagerly. "It's something else Gerard said — that I've always been guided by emotion and that's what made it so easy for the Trickster to get inside me. And he messed with my feelings, he makes things so much worse, so maybe that's calling more of them?"

"What about Erica? And why is it so haphazard? Why does it occur when it does? Why the airplane? Why not at Court?"

Stiles' enthusiasm dimmed a little. "What are you, a lawyer?" he snapped. "I thought you were gonna try to—"

"I am, Stiles! But we need facts. Just think about it. Why this pattern of sightings?"

"I don't know," he admitted, defeated.

Malia nodded briefly; it was obvious she wasn't satisfied with any of this — she wanted answers, but she was willing to wait a little more. "We need to find out more about this," she decided, at last.

Warm and relief danced inside of Stiles. "We?"

She muttered something that sounded like 'stupid'. There was something very sweet about that, he chose to believe. There was a knock on the door. Malia was called and had to leave. When he was about to follow, in the room opposite his, he saw someone lying in bed. Stiles' curiosity — always getting the better of him — made him peek inside.

It was Jackson Whittemore. Large and angry were the adjectives that usually came to mind when Stiles described Jackson, but this time, he was anything but. He was bruised and scratched up, and when he turned his face to look at Stiles, he saw red welts.

"Let me guess," Stiles said. "You fell."

Jackson glanced at him with disgust. "W—what?"

"You fell. I hear that's the standard answer. But I'll tell you the truth — you guys need to come up with something else. I think the doctor's getting suspicious."

Jackson's eyes went wide. "You know?"

Stiles hesitated for a moment — not sure of what was happening — then smiled all-knowingly. "Of course I know. They told me everything."

"What?" Jackson looked chocked. "They swore not to. It's part of the rules."

Rules? What was he talking about?

Stiles shrugged. "Well, they didn't have much of a choice. I don't know why, but I keep finding you guys afterward. I had to help cover for them. I'm telling you, I don't know how much longer this can go on without someone asking more questions."

Jackson, suddenly, sighed. "I should have been stronger. I tried, but it wasn't enough." He looked tired and in pain. "Just keep quiet until everything's set, all right, Stilinski?"

"Sure," Stiles said, dying to know what he was talking about. "I'm not going to drag anyone else in. How'd you even end up here? You're supposed to avoid attracting attention." Or Stiles assumed so.

Jackson grimaced. "The dorm matron noticed and made me come in. If the rest of the Mana finds out, I'm going to get in trouble."

 _Mana?_

"Hopefully Deaton will send you on your way before any of them find out. He's kind of busy. You've got the same marks as the others, and none of theirs were that serious. The... uh, burn marks were a little tricky, but they haven't had any problems."

It was a gamble. Stiles had no clue about the specifics of any of that. But Jackson didn't correct him, and his fingers absentmindedly touched one of the welts.

"Yeah, they said the damage wouldn't last. I'll just have to make up something for Deaton. They said they wouldn't, but maybe... maybe they'll let me try again."

Deaton choose that moment to return. He was surprised to see Stiles still there and told him he needed to get back home and rest. Stiles said goodbye to both of them and trekked back out into the cold. Finally he had a clue in this puzzle — _Mana_.

* * *

Stiles met the others in one of the recreation rooms and realized he would have to explain himself to them as well. No excuses this time. So he gave Scott and Kira — as well as Boyd and Lydia, who were hanging around — the short version of what was happening to him.

"A Trickster," said Lydia with interest. "That makes a lot of your recent behavior make sense. And your aura... it's all him, isn't it? I can see it all the more clearer now."

"You saw ghosts?" Kira exclaimed. The look on her face showed him that she was already building a list of snide comments to make.

"Stiles..." began Scott uneasily. A hurricane of emotions was beating through to Stiles from him. Concern. Shock. Suspicions. His compassion made Stiles feel that much worse.

"Look, let's not get into it, alright? It's getting worked out, so just let it drop."

Surprinsingly, everyone agreed to those terms. Boyd and Stiles went to stand in a central position that let them watch the door and windows while also staying near the half-breeds.

"You really saw Erica?" Boyd whispered to Stiles. He turned sheepish. "Sorry... you said you didn't want to talk about it."

Stiles made an effort. Clearly, Boyd wasn't asking him about this out of perverse curiosity. He asked because of Erica, because of their closeness, and because Boyd wasn't over her death any more than Stiles was.

"If it was really her..." Boyd looked at the ground. "I've always wondered if she was upset that we didn't save her."

Stiles nodded. Boyd looked back up suddenly, realizing he was still on guard duty. He didn't say anything else after that.

The half-breeds decided to go back to the dorm. Boyd walked near guard with Scott and Kira, which left Stiles with far guard. Lydia stayed behind with him. She was smoking again.

"Honestly," he said, "I can't figure out why no one in charge has busted you for this. I'm pretty sure we're not allowed to smoke within school's grounds."

"You're not allowed," she corrected. "I am."

Stiles changed the subject: "You know, Kira still thinks you're moving in on Scott."

"What?" she asked in mock astonishment. "Doesn't she know my heart belongs to you?"

"No, she's still worried about it."

"You know, I bet if we started making out right now, it would make her feel better." Stiles was about to answer but then Lydia stopped walking, her eyes losing focus. "The scenery is always changing," she muttered to herself.

"What?"

Lydia blinked. "I don't know. I've been weird lately. Weirder, I mean. There's something happening to magic around here."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head again. "I need to tell you something. I saw it happen a few times but I didn't want to say anything because I wasn't quite sure of what it meant. But you said the Trickster feeds off bad energies — sadness, anger, etc." She frowned. "I'm sure you're not short on any of these things but... Whenever Scott feels sad or mad or stressed, his aura... the darkness in his aura goes away into yours."

It was like being smacked in the face — Gerard had said Scott had everything to do with what was going on with Stiles. He'd said it was his fault. But could it be?

"No," Stiles said in a strained voice. "He's not to blame."

"I didn't say he was. But you have that connection," she pushed. "His thoughts and feelings creep into you... I think it makes everything so much worse. It makes you unstable while it keeps him happy. Haven't you noticed? He's always fine."

"It isn't his fault!" Stiles suddenly felt sick. He couldn't let things be Scott's fault. It wasn't. It couldn't be. It wasn't fair.

"No," Lydia agreed. "But it's too many people for just the one head."

Stiles walked back to the his dorm alone, which turned out to be the right choice because she appeared again. Erica. He came to an abrupt halt and stared, trying to understand what made that possible, and what was it that she wanted from him.

"Well," he said, feeling surprisingly calm. "At least you're alone again. I didn't really like the extras on the plane."

Her expression was blank and her eyes sad. It made Stiles feel worse, guilt twisting his stomach into knots.

"Why are you here? Are you even real? Am I going crazy?"

She nodded.

"Which?" he squeaked. "Yes, you're real?"

She nodded.

"Yes, I'm crazy?"

She shook her head.

"What a relief. But honestly, what else would you say if you're a hallucination?"

Erica just stared.

He tried again. "Why are you here? What do you want? Revenge?"

She shook her head again.

"Are you... are you having trouble finding peace?"

Erica nodded and seemed to grow sadder.

"But there's more than that, isn't there? Another reason you keep coming to me?"

She nodded.

"What?" he asked. "What is it? What do I need to do? Please, E. Just tell me. Tell me what you need and I'll do it. I'll do anything for you."

Erica opened up her mouth as though she would say something. She looked like she was trying hard, but no sound came out.

"I'm sorry," Stiles whispered. "I'm sorry I don't understand what you want. And I'm sorry for everything else."

Erica gave him one last wistful look. She formed the words with her mouth — _I'm sorry too_ — and then vanished.


	48. The Madness

Marin Morrell started the session with a bunch of questions. "Blackouts? Sleepwalking? Panic attacks?"

Stiles denied that.

"But you're having some really bad anxiety, Deaton told me. How many hours of sleep are you getting?"

Stiles shrugged. "Six."

"A night?"

"In the last three days," he corrected.

Marin took note of that. "Have you've been feeling irritable?"

"To the point of homicide."

"Inability to focus? Impulsive behavior?"

"More than my usual? Hard to tell."

"Acute onset insomnia. Hallucinations."

"I wasn't hallucinating."

Marin faced Stiles. "Alright. Lets talk about your father."

Stiles sighed. "What about him?"

It was his first day of counseling, and so far, he wasn't impressed. He didn't feel crazy. Did crazy people know if they really were? Lydia had said they didn't. Crazy itself was a weird term. Most forms of mental illness were actually very specific and had select symptoms — anxiety, depression, mood swings, etc. Stiles didn't know where he fell on that scale, if he did at all.

"How do you feel about him?" continued Marin.

"He's a great guardian."

Marin wrote something in her notebook. "Do you want to elaborate?"

Look, it's progress, okay? A month ago I would have said he's horrible. What's this have to do with Erica anyway?"

"Do you want to talk about Erica?"

"I thought that's what I was here for."

Marin paused. "How do you feel about her, Stiles? About her death?"

"Sad. How else should I feel?"

"Angry?"

He considered. "Maybe a little."

"Guilty?"

"All the freaking time"

"Why?"

"Because it's my fault she was there. I'd upset her... and she had this thing to prove. I told her where the Vampires were, and I wasn't supposed to. If she hadn't known about them, she wouldn't have done it. She'd still be alive."

"You don't think Erica was responsible for her own actions? That she was the one who chose to do that? That her choices were hers alone?"

 _That the world doesn't spin around you?_ added the Trickster.

"Well... yeah."

 _You didn't make her do anything,_ he shrugged.

"Any other reason you might feel guilty, Stiles?"

Stiles looked away from her and focused on the floor. "She liked me," he admitted. "Like romantically. But I didn't feel the same. That hurt her."

"Why didn't you feel the same?"

"I don't know," Stiles grumbled. The image of her body, lying on the floor, flashed into his mind and he shoved it away. "That's the thing. I should have. She was great. She was funny. We got along really well... but it just didn't feel right. And eventually, I couldn't pretend anymore."

"Do you feel like you have a problem with intimate contact?"

Stiles choked. "What? No! Of course not. Why—Okay. Look, I don't know where you're going with this, but I don't like it. What are we talking about?"

Marin tried to hide a smile. "Is there someone in your life?" she asked.

"Again, how does this relate to me seeing ghosts?" He was getting more impatient with every question.

"I'm just trying to understand you, Stiles. Everything you say in here is confidential. I can't tell anyone. It's just between you and me."

Stiles sagged in defeat. "Yeah... okay. But I can't tell you who she is."

Marin didn't press him. "How long have you known her?"

"Almost six months."

"Is she the reason you couldn't get close to Erica?"

"Yes."

"And is she holding you back from dating someone else?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Not purposely."

"But as long as you care about her, you're not interested in anyone else?"

"But it doesn't matter," he told her. "I probably shouldn't even be dating anyone at all."

"Why not?"

"Because... I have to give all my attention to Scott."

"And you don't think you can do that and be romantically involved with someone?"

Stiles shook his head. "I don't know. I have to be willing to lay down my life for his and I can't be distracted by someone else. They come first, right?"

"And so you figure you'll always have to put Scott's needs ahead of yours?"

"Of course." Stiles frowned. "What else would I do? I'm going to be his guardian."

"How does that make you feel? Giving up what you want for him?"

"He's my best friend. And he's the last of his family." Stiles thought that was obvious.

"That's not what I asked," said Marin.

"Yeah, but—" Stiles stopped. "I'm happy," he decided. "I'm happy to spend my life protecting him. End of story. You know how the system works."

"I do," she said. "But I'm not here to analyze it, Stiles. I'm here to help you get better."

"Seems like you might not be able to do one without the other."

Marin's lips quirked into a smile, and then her eyes flicked to the clock. "We're out of time today. We'll have to pick this up next time."

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought you'd be giving me some kind of awesome advice or telling me what to do. But you just kept making me talk."

She laughed softly. "Therapy isn't so much about what I think as what you do."

"Then why do it at all?"

"Because we don't always know what it is we're thinking or feeling. When you have a guide, it's easier to figure things out. You'll often discover that you already know what to do. I can help you ask questions and go places you might not have on your own." She glanced down at her notepad. "Now, I want you to think again about what I asked about Scott — how you really feel about dedicating your life to him."

"I already told you."

"I know. Just think about it some more. If your answer's the same, that's fine. Then, I want you to consider something else. I want you to think about whether maybe the reason you're attracted to this unavailable girl is _because_ she's unavailable."

He blinked. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Doesn't it? You just told me that you can't ever be involved with anyone. Do you think it's possible that wanting someone you can't have is your subconscious mind's way of coping? If it's impossible for you to have her, then you never have to confront feeling conflicted about Scott. You'll never have to choose."

Stiles opened his mouth. "I'm confused now."

"That's why I'm here."

He stood up and headed for the door. "Just..." he turned back to face her. "What's this have to do with Erica?"

"It has to do with you, Stiles. That's what's important."

Stiles left therapy feeling like his brain had melted. He also thought Marin had totally been going in the wrong direction. Of course he didn't resent Scott. And the thought that he'd fallen for Malia because he couldn't have her was ridiculous. He'd never even thought of the conflict with guarding until she'd mentioned it. He'd fallen for her because... well, because it was her.

And yet, as he walked back to the commons, he found Marin's question spinning around in his brain. He might not have been thinking about a relationship distracting them in their guard duties, but he'd certainly known from the start that her job was a huge barrier. Could that have really played a part? Had some piece of Stiles known they could never really have anything anymore — thus allowing him to always stay dedicated to Scott?

No, he decided firmly. That was ridiculous.

"Stiles!"

He looked to his right and saw Lydia cutting across the lawn toward him. "Did you just call me 'Stiles'?" he asked. "I don't think that's ever happened."

"Shut up. It happens all the time," she countered, catching up to him. She closed her eyes for a moment and muttered something. "See? Damn it. Now you've distracted me. I had something to say."

"My bad."

"Where's Scott?" she asked.

"In class like everyone else. You keep forgetting that for the rest of us, this is a school."

"Hey! I've attended more classes here than ever before."

"Whoa, you've been doing something productive? I'm impressed."

"You're one to talk, little guardian. Especially considering your whole existence here revolves around beating people up. You humans are barbaric." She frowned. "Do you think that's what we like about you?"

"Actually," he mused, "we aren't the only ones doing beatings lately." He'd nearly forgotten about his royal fight club mystery. "Does the word 'Mana' mean anything to you?"

"And you give me crap for not going to class... It means 'hand' in Romanian."

"Oh. I think I got it wrong then. I thought it had some connection to this thing that's been going on with these royals."

Recognition flashed in her eyes. "Oh Lord. Not that. Are they really doing it here too?"

"Doing what?"

"The Mana. The Hand. It's this stupid secret society that pops up at schools. It's mostly a bunch of half-breeds getting together and having secret meetings to talk about how much better they are than humans."

The pieces clicked together. "That's it then. That's Ethan's little group. What's the point of this secret society exactly?"

"The same as any other. It's a way to make people feel better about themselves. Everyone likes feeling special. Being part of an elite group is a way to do that."

"But you weren't part of it?"

"No need. I already know I'm special."

"Ethan made it sound like half-breeds had to stick together because of all the controversies that are going on — about fighting and guardians and all that. He made it sound like they could do something about it."

"Mostly all they can do is talk."

"That's it then? They're just hanging out and talking?"

"Of course they're doing lots of that. But whenever these little chapters form, there's usually something specific they want to do in secret. Each group's kind of different that way. I'll talk to Aiden. Maybe he knows something."

Stiles didn't like the sound of that. "Did you hear anything about them beating up people? There are at least four half-breeds I know of who were attacked. And they won't talk about it."

"Like I said, I'll ask Aiden. It's all I can do." Stiles sighed in frustration, and she gave him a curious look. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because it isn't right. They're hurting half-breeds. If some group's going around and ganging up on victims, they need to be stopped."

Lydia laughed. "You can't save everyone, little guardian, though God knows you'll try." Suddenly, she stepped forward, hands reaching for his face. This close to her, Stiles could appreciate just how lovely the green of her eyes were. Thinking back to Marin's words, he tried to assess how it all made him feel. Technically, Lydia wasn't available. So was Stiles attracted to her? "Shame," she said, interrupting his thoughts, "I thought we were having a moment, but you're looking at me like I'm some kind of science fair project."

"Why do you pretend to like me?" he asked.

"I do like you." She smiled wickedly. "Because of how uncomfortable you get."

"Hmm," Stiles said.

"Hmm?" she asked, eyeing him with amusement.

"Hmm." The third 'hmm' hadn't come from either of them. Stiles looked across the hall and saw Kira watching them. He took a step away from Lydia. "Why do I get the feeling you were about to make out?"

"We weren't," said Stiles.

"Why do you care?" asked Lydia. "If I'm after Stiles, it means I'm not after Scott."

"You could be after both."

"What are you, their mother?" Suddenly, Lydia's eyes lost focus. She gasped and grabbed Stiles' arm.

"What? What is it?"

"Conserve your strength," she muttered. "If you're too eager to fight the undead, you may find yourselves joining them."

"I think Stiles would prefer to die a normal death," said Kira. "Then he could come back as a ghost."

Stiles resisted the urge to kick her. Lydia shook her head, her eyes still staring nowhere. "No, you wouldn't. The wards would keep you out."

"The wards only keep Vampires out," he reminded her gently.

A defiant look replaced her scattered one. "The wards keep anything that isn't alive out. Dead or undead."

"Does this happen often?" asked Kira.

Stiles' head spun. "But—"

Lydia almost crushed his arm with her tiny hand. "If you've seen ghosts, then we're not safe anymore. Wards are made of magic. Magic is alive. Ghosts can't cross them for the same reason as Vampires. They aren't alive. If you saw a ghost, the wards have failed." She paused. "Or you're crazy."

Kira laughed out loud and Lydia snapped back to reality. "There you go, Stiles. Straight from the source," she teased.

But Stiles was suddenly shaking. Her weird logic did make sense. If wards kept Vampires out, why not ghosts? All of them were dead.

It took a lot of power to lay wards. Not every half-breed home could have them, but places like schools and the Royal Court had theirs maintained diligently. _The Royal Court_ Stiles'd had no ghostly encounters whatsoever while there, yet that had been incredibly stressful. He hadn't seen ghosts until they were in the air...

Which didn't have wards.

Stiles looked over at Lydia who looked extremely confused as if she couldn't remember what had just happened. Could she be right? Did wards keep out ghosts? And if so, what was going on with the school? If the wards were intact, Stiles should see nothing — just like at Court. If the wards were broken, he should be overrun — just like at the airport.

Instead, the Academy was somewhere in the middle. He had sightings only occasionally. It didn't make sense.

The only thing he knew for sure was that if something was wrong with the school's wards, then he wasn't the only one in danger.


	49. The Elitist

Stiles looked for Malia everywhere until Chris informed him she was in the chapel. Stiles ran there. The doors were unlocked. He walked in and saw all the candles lit, making all the gold ornaments in the room sparkle. Malia was sitting on the ground before the altar, crossed-legged as if she was meditating or something.

She always looked good, but just then, something about her nearly made Stiles come to a standstill. Maybe it was because of the background, all the polished wood and colorful icons of saints. Maybe it was just the way the candlelight shone on her dark hair. Maybe it was just because she looked unguarded, almost vulnerable. Her usual tension immediately returned though when she heard him come in.

"Is everything okay?" She started to stand, but Stiles motioned her down and sat beside her. He explained the conversation with Lydia and what he'd deduced from it. Malia listened patiently, expression thoughtful. "I'm not sure she's credible," she said when he finished.

"A lot of it makes sense."

"But why are your visions so irregular here? That doesn't go along with the ward theory. You should feel like you did on the plane."

"What if the wards are just weak?" he asked.

She shook her head. "That's impossible. Wards take months to wear down. New ones are put in place here every two weeks."

"That often?" he asked, unable to hide his disappointment. "Maybe they're getting staked. By humans or something — like we saw before."

"Guardians walk the grounds a few times a day. If there was a stake in the borders of campus, we'd notice."

Stiles sighed. Malia moved her hand over his. "I don't want to be crazy," he said.

"You aren't crazy. Have you told Morrell about this?"

"No," he said in a small voice, unable to meet her eyes.

Malia slapped the back of his head.

 _"Ouch!"_

"You have to stop this," she told him. "Do you know what's the big difference between half-breeds and Vampires?"

"They're actually alive?"

"People," Malia said. "They trust people. They let them in. And that makes them more like us. They learn how to be human."

"I trust you," he said thinking that was enough.

"You don't trust Scott?"

"I do. So what? You want me to confide in him and not you?"

"No, Stiles, I want you to confide in people. Whoever wants to listen. If the Trickster feeds off whatever you're feeling, then let it go, Stiles. Put it out. Tell people. Tell everyone. Keeping everything inside probably just makes him stronger."

Stiles faced the altar. "I don't want to lose control."

"Then don't." Malia stared at him. "Look, don't kill me for saying this but we have to consider all options. If Lydia says that Scott makes everything worse—"

"He doesn't."

"But if he does..." she hesitated. "He opened the bond to save you from Spokane. Then he closed it. It means you can do it too."

Stiles pulled away slightly so he could look at her. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I can't do that."

"Not even at the cost of your own life?"

"They come first."

Malia, suddenly, stood up and stared at the crossed figure of Jesus Christ. "Not always." Stiles stared. That was almost like treason. "Sometimes, Stiles, you come first."

He shook his head. "Not with Scott." He got up as well and left her there with her crazy ideas.

* * *

After that, the next week or so played out in a repetitive pattern. Every other novice was having regular fights with the guardians. The tests grew intricate and more difficult, and everyone had to stay on their toes. Boyd seemed to have to defend Scott every other day — but it never happened when Stiles was around. In fact, no attacks at all happened to anyone when he was around.

 _They're going soft on you,_ the Trickster chuckled. _They're worried you can't handle it._

Stiles stayed in his room for the rest of the day trying not go crazy. When he was near falling asleep, he was dragged into Scott's head. Scott was leaving the library with Boyd when Ethan came at him from across the lobby.

"How's it going, McCall?" he smiled.

"It's going tired," Scott replied. "I need to get to bed. What's up?"

Ethan looked over at Boyd. "Would you give us a little privacy?" Boyd looked at Scott who nodded, and Boyd backed up enough to be out of earshot but still watch him. "We have an invitation for you," Ethan said.

"To what, a party?"

"Kind of. It's a group. It's only for elite hal-breeds." He gestured around. "You and me. We aren't like the humans. We're so much more. And we have concerns and issues that we need to take care of."

"Yeah, it sounds kind of snobby," Scott said. "No offense. Thanks for the offer, though."

"You don't understand," pushed Ethan. "We aren't just sitting around. We're working to get things done. We're—" he hesitated and then spoke more softly, "—working on ways to get our voices out there, to make people see our way no matter what."

Scott gave an uncomfortable laugh. "Sounds like you're using magic."

"So?"

"It's forbidden. For now anyway."

"Only to some people. And apparently not you since you're pretty good at it."

Scott stiffened. "Why would you think that?"

"I've heard stories. Maero. Pixie. The likes."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Scott had turned red. "I need to go to bed."

Ethan's face grew excited. "No, it's okay. We think it's great that you used your abilities to defend yourself. We want to help you — or actually, we want you to help us. We need you, Scott."

Scott sighed. "I told you, I'm not interested."

"There are groups of Mana at every school," said Ethan. He was leaning close, and suddenly, he didn't look very friendly anymore. "Its members are all over the world. Be a part of it, and you'll have the connections to do whatever you want with your life. And if we can all learn to work our magic, we can stop the half-breed government from doing stupid things — we can make sure the queen and everyone else make the right decision. Everything about this is good for you!"

"I'm doing fine on my own, thanks," Scott said, stepping back. "And I'm not really sure you know what's best for the half-breeds."

Ethan got mad. "Fine? With your Vampire girlfriend and wannabe guardian?" he exclaimed. "Your family's reputation is all on you, and the way you're going, no one's taking you seriously. The queen's already trying to keep you in line and get you away from Yukimura. Without us, you're going to crash and burn."

Scott was growing angrier too. "You have no idea what you're talking about. An—" he frowned. "What do you mean she's trying to get me away from Kira?"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," said Ethan. "We know all sorts of things that could affect you and help you — you and Kira."

"Tell me," Scott demanded. "What do you know about Kira?"

"No free information," said Ethan. "Come to a meeting and we'll tell you everything."

"Whatever. I'm not interested in your elitist connections." Despite his words, he was insanely curious about what Ethan knew. Scott started to turn away, but Ethan grabbed his arm. Then Boyd was there pushing Ethan away.

Ethan glared at Boyd and slowly backed off. "We need you," he insisted. "Think about it."

Stiles slipped back to his own body. So Ethan had finally tried his luck with the last McCall.

* * *

Marin Morrell scheduled their next appointment on a Sunday. Stiles wasn't thrilled about it, but orders were orders. "You're wrong," he told her as soon as he sat down.

"What about?" she asked.

"About everything. The things you wanted me think about."

"How can you know for sure?"

"You just have to trust me," Stiles said evasively. He wasn't really sure about anything but not a single part of him thought she had been right.

Marin considered that for a moment. "How have things been with Scott recently?"

"Normal."

"Have you spent a lot of time together? Kept up with what he's been doing?"

"Sure, kind of. I don't see him as much. He's doing the same things as usual though. Hanging out with Kira and he's practically got Lehigh's website memorized." Marin seemed confused about that, so Stiles explained about the queen's offer. "He won't even be there until fall, but Scott's already looking at all his classes and trying to figure out what he wants to major in."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What will you do while he attends classes?"

"I'll go with him. That's what usually happens if a half-breed has a guardian close to his age. They'll probably enroll me too."

"You'll take the same classes he does?"

"Yup."

"Are there classes you'd rather take instead?"

Stiles shrugged. "How do I know? He hasn't even picked the ones he's going to take, so I don't know if I want to take them or not. But it doesn't matter. I have to go with him."

"And you don't have a problem with that?"

Stiles' temper was starting to prickle. This was exactly what he hadn't wanted to talk about. "No," he said tightly. He knew Marin wanted him to elaborate, but he refused to. They held each other's eyes for a few moments, almost like they were challenging the other to look away.

"Would you rather not talk about Scott today?" she asked at last.

"We can talk about whatever you think is useful."

"What do _you_ think is useful?"

 _Damn it._

"I think it'd be useful if you stopped talking to me like I'm a half-breed. You act like I have choices — like I have the right to be upset about any of this or pick what classes I want to take. I mean, let's say I could choose them. What good would it do? What am I going to do with those classes? Go be a lawyer or a marine biologist? There's no point in me having my own schedule. Everything's already decided for me."

"And you're okay with that." It could have been a question, but she said it like a statement of fact.

Stiles shrugged again. "I'm okay with keeping him safe, and that's what you keep missing here. Every job has bad parts. Do I want to sit through his calculus classes? No. But I have to because the other part is more important. Do you want to listen to angry teenagers try to block your efforts? No. But you have to because the rest of your job is more important."

"Actually," she said unexpectedly, "that's my favorite part of the job."

Stiles couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

"I just hate everyone acting like I'm being forced to be a guardian. I'm not trapped in this life. This is what I want. I'm good at this. I know how to fight, and I know how to defend others. Vampires are evil and need to be wiped out. I'm happy to do that and if I get to be with my best friend in the process, that's even better."

Marin nodded. "But what happens if you want other things — things that you can't have by choosing this lifestyle? You see, what's interesting here is how you respond and cope when you have to reconcile these contradictory pieces of your life, when having one thing means you can't have another."

"Everyone goes through that," Stiles argued.

"Yes, but not everyone sees ghosts as a result of it."

It took several heavy seconds for Stiles to finally realize what she was getting at. "So wait. You're saying that the reason I'm seeing Erica is because I secretly resent Scott for the things I can't have in my life? What happened to all the trauma I've been through? I thought that was the reason I'm seeing Erica?"

"I think there are a lot of reasons you're seeing Erica," Marin said. "And that's what we're exploring."

"And yet," he said, "we never actually talk about Erica."

Marin Morrell smiled serenely. "Don't we?"


	50. The Hand

Stiles spend the rest of the day just hanging out with Scott. They played some video-games in Scott's room and later went out to look for their friends to watch a movie or something. As they were heading down the corridor, Scott started to say something but stopped himself. Through the bond, Stiles could tell Scott wanted to share what had happened with Ethan the other night.

"Look—"

Something moved behind them.

Stiles didn't even hesitate. It was too fast, too covert to be anything friendly. Stiles threw himself between it and Scott and lashed out at his attacker. He vaguely recognized one of the guardians. He was taller than Stiles, but Stiles' fist made contact with his face anyway. The guardian staggered back, and then Stiles noticed another shape coming up. Stiles kicked the first guardian in the stomach and he fell toward the other one, both stumbling down. In that brief moment, Stiles had his practice stake out and aimed for the first guardian's heart.

"Dead."

The second guardian got up and came forward. He made his major move, but Stiles was faster and wiggled out of his grip. Stiles stayed out of his reach just long enough to stake him too. As soon as the second guardian backed away in defeat, Stiles turned to face a third attacker — Malia.

It was unexpected. Something inside Stiles said he couldn't fight Malia. The rest of him reminded that voice that he'd been doing it for the last six months, and besides, she wasn't Malia right now. She was the enemy.

Stiles swallowed hard and then sprang toward her with the stake, hoping to catch her by surprise. But Malia was hard to catch by surprise. And she was fast! It was like she knew what Stiles was going to do before he did it. She halted his attack with a glancing blow to the side of the head. Stiles knew it would hurt later.

Distantly, he realized some other people had come to watch them but his eyes were only on her. As they tested each other, attacking and blocking, Stiles tried to remember everything she'd taught him. He also tried to remember everything he knew about her. He knew her, knew her moves, just as she knew his.

Then Malia finally got through. She moved in for an attack, coming at him with the full force of her body. Stiles blocked the worst of it, but she tangled her legs around him and dragged him to the ground, trying to pin him. Stiles shoved her elbow up hitting her own face. She flinched, and that was all he needed.

Stiles rolled her over and held her down. She fought to push him off, and Stiles pushed right back while also trying to maneuver his stake. Boy, she was strong. Stiles was certain he wouldn't be able to hold her for long. Then, just as he thought he'd lost his hold, Stiles got a good grip on the stake, and like that, it came down over her heart.

Behind them, people were clapping, but all Stiles noticed was Malia. Their gazes were locked. He was still straddling her, his hands pressed against her body. Both of them were sweaty and breathing heavily. Her eyes shone. She was so close he could feel her heart. The air between them seemed warm and heady, and Stiles would have given anything in that moment to kiss her.

Then a hand reached down, and someone helped Stiles stand up. The two other guardians were beaming, as were the spectators who had wandered up. Even Scott looked impressed.

"Well done," said the second guardian. "You took down all three of us. That was textbook perfect."

Malia was on her feet now too. Stiles looked pointedly at the other two guardians because he was pretty sure if he looked at her he wouldn't be able to control himself. "Is everybody okay?" he asked.

This made all of them laugh. "We'll be fine," said the first guardian. "Don't worry about us. We're tough." He glanced at Malia. "He got you pretty good with his elbow."

Malia gave a light shrug. "It was my elbow."

"Well, you passed it, Stilinski," said the second guardian. "Very nice job."

 _He'd done it._ Finally. After all the embarrassment over his fumbles and alleged incompetence, Stiles had finally proven what he could do. He wanted to start dancing. But everyone just sort of scattered and Stiles went back to his room to change his clothes.

* * *

When he went down again, wondering where Scott was, he spotted a big group of people gathering around something, and Stiles recognized the international sign of a fight. Squeezing through people, Stiles pushed himself forward and peeked over some heads, curious as to who could have drawn such a crowd.

It was Lydia and Kira.

Oh, and Boyd. But Boyd was clearly there in a referee role. He was standing between them, trying to keep them away from each other. Kira was waving her arms around trying to hit anything she could reach and Lydia was yelling something at her. Stiles shoved aside the last few people in front of him and hurried to Boyd's side.

"What the hell's going on?" he demanded.

"How long did you think you could get away with it?" Kira shouted. Her eyes were turning yellow and her fingertips were sparkling. "Did you seriously think everyone would keep buying your act?"

Lydia looked laconic as usual, but Stiles could see some anxiety under that lazy smile. She didn't want to be in this situation and wasn't even sure how it had happened. "Honestly," she said in a weary voice, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Can we please just go sit down and discuss this reasonably?"

"Sure. Of course you'd want that. You're afraid I might do _this_." A lighting struck dangerously close to where they were standing. There were gasps from the crowd. Kira smirked. "What have you got to fight back with? Crazy-talk?"

"If you're going to go start fights for no reason, you should at least do it the old-fashioned way and pull some hair," said Lydia. Her voice was light, but she was still uneasy.

"No," interrupted Stiles. "No one's going to fight anybody. What is it? What happened?"

"Your friend there thinks I'm planning to marry Scott and be carried off into the sunset," said Lydia.

"Don't act like it's not true," said Kira, her voice revealing how truly painful that sounded to her ears. "I know it is. It's been part of your plan — yours and the queen's. She's been backing you the whole time. Coming back here... the whole studying thing... it was a scam to get Scott away from me and tied to your family instead."

"Do you have any idea how paranoid you sound?" asked Lydia. "My mother has to manage the entire half-breed government! Do you think she really cares about who's dating who in high school — especially with the state of affairs lately? Look, I'm sorry about all the time I've spent with your boyfriend... we'll find him and figure this out. I really wasn't trying to get between you. There's no conspiracy going on here."

"Yes, there is," said Kira. She glanced over at Stiles with a scowl. "Isn't there? You know. You have known for a while about this. You even talked to the queen about it."

"That's ridiculous," said Lydia, surprised enough that she too shot Stiles a quick glance. "Isn't it?"

"Well..." Stiles began, realizing this was getting very ugly, very quickly. "Yes and no."

"See?" asked Kira and another lightning struck the ground, this time even closer. People screamed. Boyd grabbed Kira's hand and was electrocuted. He fell to the ground but he seemed alright, just a little surprised.

That's when Isaac showed up. Stiles didn't even see where he came from, which was weird since he was so tall. But Isaac strut over to Kira, looked her dead in the eye and said: "Stop this right now."

Kira seemed confused for a second but then her eyes returned to the right color, her face went slack and her body relaxed.

"Let's talk about this," said Isaac, his voice powerful in the night.

"Okay," said Kira.

There was a collective sigh of disappointment from the crowd and people started to walk away. Stiles approached Isaac. "How the hell did you do that?"

The boy shrugged. "I told you, I'm an Encantado. It's what I do."

"He can control people's minds," Lydia said with a smirk.

Kira suddenly snapped off. Her face filled with fury, and she tried to leap at Lydia. Stiles caught her.

"Sorry," said Isaac. "You distracted me. Also I don't have much practice."

"What did you just do?" Kira shouted.

"Be quiet," Stiles told her. "Something's wrong here, and we need to figure it out before—"

"What's wrong," Kira said, glaring at Lydia, "is that they're trying to break up Scott and me, and you knew about it, Stiles!"

Lydia glanced at him. "Did you really?"

"Look, Lydia didn't have anything to do with this," Stiles told Kira. "Not intentionally. It was the queen's idea — and she hasn't even actually done anything yet. It's just her long-term plan — hers alone, not Lydia's."

"Then how did you know about it?" demanded Kira.

"Because she told me — she was afraid that I was moving in on Lydia."

"Really? Did you defend our love?" Lydia asked.

"Be quiet," Stiles said. "What really matters here, is who told _you?_ "

"Ethan," Kira said, looking uncertain.

"You should have known better than to listen to him," remarked Boyd.

"He was actually telling the truth," said Stiles. "Aside from Lydia being in on it."

Kira seemed calm enough, so Stiles released her. "How does he know?"

"His mother," guessed Lydia. "She's my mom's counselor."

Stiles looked around, suddenly taken aback by something. "Where's Scott?"

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "You tell us."

"I..." Stiles frowned. He'd gotten so good at shielding himself when he needed to that long periods of time would go by without him feeling anything from Scott. "I can't feel him."

Three sets of eyes stared at him.

"Is he asleep?" asked Boyd.

"I can tell when he's asleep... This is something different..." Slowly, slowly, Stiles gained a sense of where Scott was. He was blocking Stiles out on purpose, he realized, trying to hide from Stiles. "Found him. He's—"

Pain shot through Scott into Stiles. He stumbled forward falling to his knees. The others stopped and stared. Stiles felt like he had just been hit in the face. Only it hadn't been _his_ face. It had been Scott's. Stiles shifted into his mind and became instantly aware of Scott's surroundings and everything happening to him — like the next time rocks flew up from the ground and slammed into his cheeks. They were guided by a half-breed Stiles knew anything about. The rocks hurt both Scott and Stiles.

Stiles broke away from them and headed out the door, running as hard as he could toward the part of campus where they were holding Scott. He couldn't see all of the people gathered there through his eyes, but he recognized Ethan and Jackson. The rocks were still hitting Scott, still cutting into his face. He didn't scream or cry, though — he was trying his best not to turn into a Werewolf.

Ethan, meanwhile, kept telling Scott to make them stop. Stiles only half-listened; the reasons didn't matter. They were going to torture Scott until he agreed to join their group. They must have forced the others in the same way.

A suffocating feeling suddenly overwhelmed Stiles, and he fell to the ground unable to breathe as water smothered his face. Fighting hard, he tried to separated himself from Scott; it was the only way to save him.

 _Oh, but you can't,_ said the Trickster choosing this moment to show up.

But that was happening to Scott, not Stiles.

 _How do you know which you are?_ the Trickster asked. _You're so far gone, how can you know?_

Someone was torturing Scott with water now, using it to cut off his air. Whoever it was took their time, alternately filling his face with water, then pulling it back, then repeating. Scott gasped and sputtered, still trying to control himself although his claws were already showing.

 _How can you tell the difference between you and him?_

Ethan continued watching with calculating eyes. "Don't ask them to stop, Scott. Make them. The power is in your hands."

 _Do you even know who you are anymore?_ the Trickster wondered.

Stiles kept moving. He wouldn't let him win. He knew who he was. He wasn't Scott — he was his guardian. And he would save him no matter what.

Stiles tried running harder, but he could only go so much faster. And with every agonizing step, he felt more of Scott's pain and grew angrier and angrier. Water slammed back into him, crushing his face. It was agony, it was pain, it was terror — and the Trickster loved every second of it.

 _What kind of a guardian are you?_ he laughed. _If you can't even keep him safe in here?_

Too late. Next thing, something inside of Scott snapped.


	51. The Finish Line

Jackson, the Salamandra, stepped up next to use his fire. He was so blinded by his own ego, he didn't even see when Stiles slammed into him. None of them had been paying attention to their surroundings, they all had their eyes on the Werewolf. Jackson fell down with Stiles on top of him.

A few of the others — including Ethan — ran to help him and tried to pry Stiles away, but those who saw Stiles face immediately backed off. Those who didn't quickly learned the hard way when Stiles went after them. It was ironic — and a sign of how stupid and untrained they were — that while they were so eager to use magic to torture Scott, none of them actually thought to use it against Stiles.

Most of them scattered before Stiles could even lay a hand on them though. But Stiles did give Jackson a few extra punches even after he'd gone down, then left him lying on the ground groaning.

Stiles straightened up and looked for Ethan — the real culprit here. Stiles quickly found him — Ethan was being tackled by a Werewolf. He fell to the ground with Scott on top of him; Scott who was almost biting his arm off. The expression on Ethan's face as he screamed sent chills down Stiles' spine. Scarier still was what Stiles felt through the bond. All that was coming from Scott was black and slimy and thick and heavy and dirty and horrible.

"Scott," he called. In the distance, he heard people running toward them. "Scott!" Stiles touched his friend and the Werewolf turned toward him. For a moment, Stiles was certain he was going to attack him, but Scott stood frozen under the moonlight.

"It was an initiation ritual," he said, trying to be heard over Ethan's screams. "They asked me to join a couple of days ago, and I refused. But they said they knew something important about Kira. I told them I'd come to one of their sessions. It was an act. I just wanted to know what they knew." His body started to shake and he considered eating Ethan's face. He was so angry he could barely speak. "They wanted half-breeds to learn how to defend themselves. Only they don't teach you how. Torture them until they can't stand it, and then, in the heat of it all, people lash out and use their powers." Scott regarded the ugly sight of Ethan bloody arm and smiled. "I guess this makes me their president, huh?"

"Scott," Stiles said a third time. "This isn't how magic is supposed to be used. This isn't you. It's wrong."

Scott was breathing heavily, sweat breaking out along his brow. "I want to kill him."

"No! You don't." Stiles touched his arm. There was only one way out of this: "Give it to me."

Scott briefly turned from Ethan and looked at Stiles, astonished. "What?"

Stiles focused hard on the bond, on Scott's mind. He could take the darkness. It wouldn't matter. It was what he'd been doing for a while now, he realized. Every time he'd worried and wished Scott would calm down and fight dark feelings, he had — because Stiles was taking it all from him. And these were the worst feelings of all, and Stiles couldn't let Scott have it.

"Focus on me. Release it all. It's wrong. You don't want it."

Scott stared at Stiles again, eyes wide and desperate. Stiles both saw and felt the fight he waged. Ethan had hurt him so much — Scott wanted him to pay. He had to pay. _He would pay!_ And yet, at the same time, it wasn't right. But it was hard. So hard to let go...

Suddenly, the burn of that black magic vanished from the bond, along with that sickening sensation. Something hit Stiles like a blast of wind in the face, and he staggered backward. He shuddered as a weird sensation twisted his stomach. It was like sparks, like a coil of electricity burning within him and giving power — a lot of power — to the Trickster.

Scott slowly returned to normal and sank with visible relief. He was no longer consumed with that terrible, destructive rage that had driven him to punish Ethan. That urge within him had disappeared.

The only problem was, it was in Stiles now and the Trickster had full control of it.

He turned on Ethan, and it was like nothing else mattered in the universe except him. His existence was unacceptable. He had to die. The Trickster lunged for him. Ethan's eyes had only a moment to widen with terror before Stiles' fist connected with his face. His head jerked back, and blood spurted from his nose. Stiles heard Scott scream for him to stop, but he couldn't. He wasn't in control anymore.

 _And, man, Ethan had to pay for what he'd done!_ The Trickster grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him hard against the ground. Ethan was yelling now too — begging — for him to stop. He shut up when the Trickster hit him again. His eyes rolled.

Stiles felt Scott's hands clawing at him, trying to pull him off, but Scott wasn't strong enough. Stiles kept hitting Ethan. There was no sign of the strategic, precise fighting of a guardian: this was unfocused and primal. This was the evil spirit.

Then another set of hands ripped Stiles away. These hands were stronger: Boyd's. Stiles struggled against his hold. Stiles screamed in rage. Isaac knelt beside Ethan and said to him: "You don't feel any pain."

 _How could he do that? After what Ethan had done? He deserved all the pain in the world!_

Stiles punched Boyd in the face and lunged forward one more time, pushing Isaac aside. He was about to jump on Ethan one more time when the other guardians showed up, Malia and Chris in the lead. They both pulled Stiles back.

"No!" he shouted. "He deserves this!"

A few of the guardians started removing Scott, Jackson and Ethan to get medical attention.

"You can't let him go!" Stiles yelled at them. "He deserves it!"

"Stilinski, that is enough!" said Chris.

 _How could he not get what was going on? How couldn't he see?_

"I will choke the life out of him!"

"Get him out of here!" Chris exclaimed.

Malia and Boyd half carried half dragged Stiles away while he incessantly tried to break away. They threw him in his bed in his room. Malia said something to Boyd and he left. She closed the door and locked it.

Stiles lunged toward her smashing her back against the locked door. Malia groaned and tried to push him away while Stiles tried to reach the doorknob.

"Don't you see?" he said to her. "Don't you see how he has to pay?"

"He'll be punished," Malia tried to say. Her grip loosened on his arm and Stiles' hand reached the lock. He was about to open it when Malia's forehead hit his. Stiles stumbled back and she forced him down to the ground and sat on top of him.

"With what?" he asked trying to knock her aside. "Nobody does anything around here! People commit crimes and get away with it. He needs to hurt. They all need to." His hands found her neck and Malia tried to pry them off.

"You don't want to punish people like that," she mumbled. "It's savage."

Every part of Stiles' body trembled with fury. "They need to suffer for what they did! And I want to be the one to do it! I want to hurt them all. I will kill them all!" He shoved her aside and started to get up, suddenly feeling like he was going to explode. Her hands were on his shoulders in a flash, shoving him back down. Her expression was a mixture of both worry and fierceness as she forced him down again.

"You don't mean any of it!" she said. "That is not you. That's him! You need to make him stop."

"Shut up!" he shouted back at her. "You think you're so perfect! What happened to killing your own boyfriend?"

Malia blinked, surprised, and Stiles made his move, leaping out and shoving her away. Again, he didn't go far. He was on his knees, his hand reached toward the doorknob when she, instead of pulling him back, this time pushed him forward hitting his face on the door. Stiles saw stars; his head spun and tears filled his eyes. Malia grabbed both his arms.

"Let me go!" he yelled, trying to free his hands.

"No," she said, and now her voice was almost desperate. "Not until you break out of this. This isn't you!"

His eyes watered but Stiles smiled. "This _is_ me!"

Malia, unexpectedly, let go of his arms, her hands moving to cup his face. "No, it isn't." She embraced him and held him, her body warm against his, her heart beating so fast.

That steady pace did it. _This isn't you._ It was the same thing Stiles had said to Scott when he watched, terrified, as he used his magic to hurt Ethan. Stiles stood there, unable to believe what his best friend was doing. Scott hadn't realized he'd lost control and was on the verge of becoming a monster. And now, feeling Malia's heartbeat, Stiles realized it was happening to him too.

 _Get up!_ the Trickster urged him. _Go out and fight!_

But Stiles was done fighting.

 _Get up!_

 _No._

Stiles tried to fight him off, to shake off the feelings burning through him. The Trickster was too strong. Stiles couldn't do it. He couldn't take back the control.

"Stiles," Malia called softly. It was only his name, but it was so powerful, filled with so much. She had such absolute faith him, faith in his own strength and goodness. With her there, he could defeat this monster that lived inside of him. She believed he was strong and so he was.

Slowly, slowly, Stiles felt the Trickster fading away, falling into the background of his existence. There was no more fury inside of him — now there was only fear.

"Malia," he said, voice shaking, so she knew it was okay.

Malia let go of him but kept close. "Are you okay?"

Stiles tried to breathe. "I... I think so. I can't do it by myself," he added, partly because it was true, partly because he didn't know what to do.

"You can," she told him. "But you don't have to."

Emotion filled his body again, but now it wasn't hate or rage or anything like that. It was warm and amazing and made his heart ache. Stiles pulled her face closer and their lips met. Here, now, there was only love, sweet and blissful, with no despair or darkness.

Steadily, the intensity increased, wrapping around them. Stiles clung to her, one arm around her neck while his other hand gripped her back so hard that his fingers practically dug in. He laid her back down on the ground. His hands wrapped around her waist, and then one of them slid down the back of her thigh and pulled it up so that it nearly wrapped around him.

And this time, they both knew there would be no turning back.


	52. The Buria Code

They laid together for a while after that, wrapped in each other's arms, not saying much.

Questions still spun in Stiles' mind, of course. _What had just happened?_ Where had their so-called control gone? For now, Stiles couldn't care. His body was still warm and wanting her. It was perfection.

He could have stayed that way forever, but suddenly, a pale, slightly luminescent form materialized in Stiles' bedroom.

 _Erica._

She looked the same as ever — the usual sadness was there in her cat-like eyes, but Stiles could see something else: Panic? Frustration? Fear? But what would a ghost be afraid of?

Stiles sat up and so did Malia. She gave him a puzzled look. "What's wrong?"

"Do you see her?" Stiles whispered.

Malia followed his gaze and frowned. "Who?"

"Erica."

Erica's troubled expression grew darker. Her mouth opened. "They are coming," she said, very faintly.

* * *

"Stiles..." Malia called carefully.

Stiles didn't move. Erica was saying something else — or trying to. Her mouth was moving but no sound was coming from it.

"Who?" he asked. "Who's coming, E?"

A look of frustration crossed her face. She pointed off toward the window behind them.

"Tell me," Stiles said, his frustration mirroring hers. Malia was patiently waiting.

There was something here. Something big. Erica opened her mouth again and after several agonizing seconds, she managed to speak. "The Cold Ones are here."

Stiles and Malia got dressed really fast and rushed out of that bedroom. The whole world was still. The night seemed quieter than usual. Even the wind had fallen silent.

Malia and Stiles saw the Vampire at the same time, but Malia was closer. It swooped toward them, but Malia was just as fast and nearly as strong. She had her stake — a real one — in her hand and met the Vampire's attack. Malia's hand snaked out, plunging the stake into the Vampire's heart. The red eyes widened in surprise, and the Vampire's body crumpled to the ground.

Malia turned to Stiles and there was a look he'd never seen in her eyes. "Stiles. Run," she said. "As fast and as hard as you can back to your dorm. Tell the guardians."

For maybe the first time in his life, Stiles didn't argue.

"Tell them _buria_."

With a brief nod, Stiles ran and didn't look back. He didn't ask what she was going to do because he already knew. She was going to stop as many Vampires as she could so that Stiles could get help.

For only a heartbeat, he let himself worry about her. If she died, he was certain he would too. But then he let it go. He couldn't just think about one person, not when hundreds of lives were depending on him.

 _There were Vampires in Beacon Hills._ It was impossible. It couldn't happen.

His feet hit the ground hard. He burst in through the doors, feeling like his heart was going to explode from the exertion. The first person he saw was Adrian Harris, and Stiles nearly knocked him over.

"Stilinski, wha—"

"Vampires," Stiles gasped out. "There are Vampires on campus."

Harris stared at him and his mouth dropped open. "W—what?"

"They're out there! They're out there, and Malia is fighting them alone. You have to help her." What had Malia told him to say? What was that word? " _Buria!_ " he shouted. "She said to tell you _buria_."

And like that, Harris was gone.

Things moved too fast from there. Every guardian in the dorm was in the lobby in a matter of minutes. Calls were made. Chris joined the group and was sending out parties throughout campus. Some were sent to secure buildings. Some were hunting parties, specifically seeking out Vampires and trying to figure out how many were around. As the guardians thinned out, Stiles stepped forward.

"What should I do?"

Chris turned to him. "Get the other novices," he ordered. "Stay here in the dorm though. No one can leave — the whole campus is under lockdown. Go up to the floors you live on. There are guardians there organizing you into groups. The Vampires are less likely to get up there from the outside. Watch them, Stiles. Keep people from panicking." Chris reached inside his coat and handed Stiles a silver stake. A real one.

Stiles went from door to door calling the novices and directing them to the upper floors. Most were terrified, which was perfectly understandable. A few of the older ones wanted to do something, anything to help. Stiles pulled a couple of them aside.

"Keep them from panicking," he said in a low voice. "And stay on watch. If something happens to the older guardians, it'll be up to us."

Their faces were sober, and they nodded at his directions. They understood perfectly.

Stiles went to the second floor and patrolled one of the windows, desperate to know what was going on. How many Vampires were there? Where were they? Stiles realized then that he had a good way of finding out. Still keeping an eye on his window as best he could, he cleared his mind and slipped into Scott's head.

Scott was with a group of other half-breeds on an upper floor of his dorm. There was a bit more tension among them. Boyd was near Scott. He looked like he could single-handedly take on every Vampire on campus and Stiles was grateful he'd been assigned to Scott.

Scott, on the other hand, was terrified. But his fear was for Kira and Stiles.

"The little guardian is fine." Scott glanced over at Lydia. "He can take on any Vampire. Besides, he's with Tate. He's probably safer than we are."

"But Kira..." Scott choked in his words. He and Kira had wanted to meet alone and talk about all that had happened — Mana, Lydia, the queen. They'd been supposed to sneak out and meet in the chapel's attic. Scott hadn't been fast enough and now Kira was alone out there.

It was Boyd who offered the words of comfort. "If she's in the chapel, she's fine. Vampires can't get inside holy places, remember? She really is the safest of all of us."

"Unless they burn it down," said Scott. "They used to do that."

"Four hundred years ago," said Lydia. "I think they've got easier pickings around here without needing to go all medieval."

Scott knew Boyd was right, but he couldn't shake the thought that Kira might have been on her way back to the dorm and been caught in the middle. The worry was eating him up, and he felt helpless with no way to do or find out anything.

Stiles returned to his own body, standing in the second floor hallway. The half-breeds didn't know anything that could help. _And Kira...!_ Finally, he grasped the importance of guarding someone who wasn't psychically linked to him. And though he wouldn't have admitted this to anybody, he was worried about Kira. It was an entirely different game when he didn't have a bond — and it was a scary one.

Stiles stared at the window without seeing it. Kira was out there. She was his charge. And even if the field experience was hypothetical... well, it didn't change things. She was a half-breed. She might be in danger. Stiles was the one who was supposed to guard her.

 _They came first._

Stiles knew it was wrong, even as he opened the window up. He was exposing himself here, but he had conflicting instincts. _Obey orders. Protect half-breeds._

He had to go make sure Kira was okay.

Chilly night air blew in. No sounds from outside revealed what was happening. With a quick prayer to whoever was listening, Stiles climbed out of the window, holding onto its sill with both hands and letting his body dangle as close to the lower ledge as he could. He counted to three and released his hold, dragging his hands along the wall as he dropped.

He hit the ground, barely noticing he'd skinned his hands. He moved cautiously as he set out toward the chapel. He had the cover of darkness, but Vampires could see in it even better than he could. He could hear screams in the distance.

Halfway to the chapel, he saw someone move out from behind a tree. Stiles spun around, stake in hand, and nearly struck Kira in the heart.

"God, what are you doing?" he hissed.

"Trying to get back to the dorm," she said. "What's going on? I heard screaming."

"There are Vampires on campus!"

"What? How?"

"I don't know how, Kira. You have to go back to the chapel. It's safe there."

"Are you going with me?" she asked, surprised.

Stiles started to respond when he saw something moving behind her. "Get down!" he yelled. Kira dropped to the ground without hesitation.

Two Vampires were on them. One of them slammed Stiles into a tree. His vision blurred for half a second, but Stiles soon recovered. He shoved back and had the satisfaction of seeing the Vampire stagger a little. The other one — a woman — reached for him, and Stiles dodged her, slipping out of her grasp.

Stiles feinted toward the male Vampire, and then struck out as fast as he could toward the female one. His stake bit into her heart. It surprised both of them. His first Vampire staking.

He'd barely pulled the stake out when the male Vampire backhanded him, snarling. Stiles staggered then leapt out and kicked him. The Vampire knocked Stiles to the ground, pinning his arms. Stiles tried to push him off, but he didn't move. Saliva dripped from his fangs as he leaned his face down toward Stiles. Stiles felt the fangs against his neck and then the Vampire jerked back and dropped to the ground moving like a fish out of water. Kira electrocuted him until his body was set on fire. There were a few strangled screams before he grew silent. He twitched and rolled before finally going still.

Stiles turned to her, who was crouched on the ground. "Wow," he said, helping her up.

"No shit," she said. "Didn't know I could do that." She peered around, body rigid and tense. "Are there more?"

"I don't know. Let's just get back to the chapel."

Kira didn't move. A strange, speculative look was on her face. "Stiles... do you really want to hole up in the chapel?"

He had a bad feeling about that. "What do you mean?"

"We just took out two Vampires," she said.

Stiles met her eyes, the full impact of what she was saying hitting him. Stiles could stake the Vampires. Kira could burn them. Together, they could do some serious damage.

He shook his head. "I can't risk your life..."

"Stiles," she said. "It's worth risking one half-breed life to save everyone else."

 _Putting a half-breed in danger._ Taking her out to fight Vampires. It pretty much went against everything Stiles had been taught. But he could save so many others. Stiles had to save them. And he would fight as hard as he could.

"Don't use your full power on them," he finally said. "You don't need to put them on fire. Just shock them enough to distract them, and then I'll finish them. You can save your power."

A grin lit her face. "We're going hunting?"

 _Oh man._

Stiles was going to get in so much trouble. But the idea was too appealing, too exciting. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to protect the people he loved. Scott had a bunch of people with him. Others weren't so lucky.

A third Vampire appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Kira right before Stiles' eyes. But she'd been ready for it. Waves of electricity wreathed the Vampire's head. He screamed and released her, trying keep his head from blowing up. The Vampire never saw Stiles coming with the stake.

The whole thing took under a minute.

Kira and Stiles exchanged a look of pure wonder.

"Yeah," Stiles decided, at last. "We're going hunting."


	53. The Victories

The attack was happening in the main school building. Vampires and guardians were actively fighting around the entrance. For a moment, Stiles froze. There were almost twenty Vampires and half as many guardians. And to see so many Vampires together... Stiles allowed himself a moment of shock, and then jumped into the fray.

There was one guardian near a side entrance, fending off three Vampires. He was battered and bruised, and the body of a fourth Vampire lay at his feet. Stiles lunged for one of the three. She didn't see him coming, and Stiles managed to stake her with almost no resistance. _That was lucky._

Kira meanwhile was electrocuting the others. The guardian's face reflected surprise, but that didn't stop him from staking another Vampire. Stiles got the third one.

"You shouldn't have brought her here," the guardian said as they moved to help another guardian. "Half-breeds aren't supposed to get involved with this."

"Half-breeds should have been involved with this a long time ago," said Kira through gritted teeth.

The rest was a blur. Kira and Stiles moved from fight to fight, combining her magic and his stake. Not all of the kills were as fast and easy as the early ones had been. Some fights were long and drawn out. The other guardian stuck with them, and Stiles honestly lost count of how many Vampires they took down.

"There's two of you." The words startled Stiles. The speaker was a Vampire who looked like he was still seventeen. "I can smell two of you, but I only see one."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles mumbled. "I'm possessed by an evil spirit. Big deal." Stiles tried to hit the Vampire's heart with the stake, but he dodged. Then something shoved into Stiles from the side, another Vampire. Stiles stumbled but managed to drive his stake through this Vampire's heart. He turned back to the first Vampire and Kira helped taking him down.

The fighting continued. Scott hovered at the back of Stiles' mind, the bond telling Stiles he was okay. Aside from that, Stiles let battle lust consume him. He had one goal and one alone: kill Vampires. He lost track of time. Only the Vampires he was currently fighting at any given moment mattered. And as soon as that one was gone, it was on to the next.

Until there wasn't a next one.

Stiles was sore and exhausted, adrenaline burning through his body. Kira stood beside him, panting. She hadn't engaged in physical combat like him, but she'd used a lot of magic tonight, and that had taken its own physical toll. Stiles looked around.

"We gotta find another one," he said.

"There are no others," a familiar voice said.

Stiles turned and looked into Malia's face. She was alive. All the fear for her he'd held back burst through him. He wanted to hold her as close to him as possible. She was alive — battered and bloody, yes — but alive.

"You have a little blood," Kira pointed. "Everywhere."

"It's not mine." Malia's gaze held Stiles' for just a moment, but in that brief glance, he saw love and concern — and relief. She'd been worried about him too. Then Malia turned and gestured to the eastern sky. The horizon was pink and purple. "It's nearly sunrise. They're either dead or have run away," she told him. "What you two did—"

"Was stupid?" Stiles suggested.

"—was amazing," she finished. "You killed most of them."

Stiles looked around, shocked at the number of bodies lying on the ground. They had killed Vampires. They had killed _a lot_ of them. They had defeated the monsters.

Then he noticed something that made his stomach twist. "There are more than just Vampire bodies there," he said in a small voice.

"We've lost a lot of people," Malia confirmed. "In more than one way."

Kira frowned. "What do you mean?"

Malia's face was both hard and sad. "The Vampires killed half-breeds and humans. And some... some they carried away."

It wasn't enough that the Vampires had come and attacked them, that they'd killed half-brees and humans alike. They'd also carried some off. It was something they were known to do. Even they had limits on how much blood they could drink at once. So they'd often take prisoners to keep as snacks for later or even to turn into more of them.

Whatever the reason, it meant that some of the people might still be alive.

Students, half-breeds and humans, were gathered up once certain buildings leaving the guardians to assess the damage. Stiles wanted desperately to be with them, to help and do his part, but they made it clear his part was over.

It still seemed unreal. Vampires attacking the school. All this time, was that what Erica had been trying to tell him? How could it have happened? How could she have known? Stiles had to find out.

It took only a couple hours for them to get a casualty count, but waiting while those reports trickled in felt like days. Fifteen half-breeds had been killed. Twelve guardians had been killed. A group of thirteen, both half-breeds and humans, had been taken away. The guardians estimated that there had been close to fifty Vampires. They'd found twenty-eight bodies. The rest appeared to have escaped.

For that size of a Vampire party, the casualty count was still lower than one might have expected. The early warning had saved them. The Vampires had barely penetrated the school's inner grounds when Stiles warned Harris. The school had gone into lockdown quickly.

The Vampires never made it into the main building largely thanks to Stiles and Kira. One of the dorms had been invaded though — the one that Scott lived in. Stiles almost had a heart attack when he heard it, even though he could feel that Scott was fine. The attacking group hadn't gotten far into the dorm, thankfully, but there had been casualties.

One of them was Boyd.

Stiles sat with his friends in the cafeteria. No one had much of an appetite and all conversations were conducted in low whispers.

"When the Vampire got in downstairs, he and some other novices went down to help," Scott explained. He kept his head down and Stiles could see how much he hurt.

The cafeteria disappeared. Stiles stopped seeing any of them. All he could see in that moment was that room back in Spokane, that room where they'd been held. They'd tortured Boyd and nearly killed him. That experience had changed him forever, affecting the way he now conducted himself as a guardian. He'd grown extremely dedicated as a result, but it had cost him some of the light and laughter he used to have.

He'd worked so hard to protect Scott and others, risking his own life in the attack. Stiles had been nowhere near the dorm when it had happened, but he felt responsible — like he should have watched over Boyd. Surely he owed it to Erica. Erica who had died on his watch and whose ghost he hadn't seen since she'd warned him earlier. He hadn't been able to save her, and now he'd lost her best friend too.

Stiles shot up from his chair and shoved his tray away. Fury blazed through him.

"What's wrong?" asked Scott.

Stiles stared at him in disbelief. "What's wrong? Do you seriously have to ask that?" In the silent cafeteria, his voice rang out. People stared.

"Little guardian, you know what he means," said Lydia, trying to steady him.

Isaac, who was sitting with them, added: "We're all upset. Sit back down. It's going to be okay."

For a moment, Stiles almost listened to him.

 _He's using his powers on you,_ the Trickster pointed out. _Don't let him._

Stiles glared at Isaac. "Stop trying to control me. I already have someone in my head. And it is not going to be okay — not unless we do something about this."

"There's nothing to be done," said Scott. Stiles turned his back and marched away. Scott called him back; he was worried about him. He was also afraid. Now that he'd lost Boyd, he wanted someone else with him — a selfish feeling Scott tried to shove away.

Stiles stormed out of the commons and into the bright light outside. The guardians' meeting wasn't for another couple hours, but that didn't matter. Stiles needed to talk to someone now. He sprinted to the guardians' building and bumped into someone he knew quite well.

His fury turned to surprise. "Dad?"

Guardian Stilinski stood there by the door. He looked the same as he had back during the holidays. "Stiles."

"What are you doing here?"

"Replenishing the numbers. They've called in extras to reinforce campus."

 _Replacing the guardians who had been killed..._ All the bodies had been cleared away but Stiles could still see them when he closed his eyes. With his dad here though, he realized he had an opportunity.

"We have to go after them," Stiles said. "Rescue the ones who were taken."

His dad regarded him carefully, a small frown the only sign of his feelings. "We don't do that kind of thing. You know that. We have to protect those who are here."

"What about those thirteen? Shouldn't we protect them? And you went on a rescue mission once."

His dad shook his head. "That was different. We had a trail. We wouldn't know where to find this group if we wanted to."

Stiles knew he was right. The Vampires wouldn't have left an easy path to follow. And yet Stiles knew someone who could know. "Do you know where Malia is?"

His dad gestured toward groups of guardians hurrying all around. "I'm sure Guardian Tate's busy here somewhere. Everyone is. And now I need to go check in. I know you were invited to the meeting, but that's not for a while yet — you should stay out of the way."

"I will... but I need to see Malia first," he insisted. "It's important."

"What is it?" his dad asked suspiciously.

"I can't explain yet... It's complicated. Help me find her, and we'll tell you later."

His dad didn't seem happy about this, but he helped Stiles find Malia, who was studying a map of campus and planning how to distribute the newly arrived guardians. There were enough people gathered around the map that she was able to slip away.

"What's going on?" she asked as she and Stiles stood off to the side of the room.

"I think we should launch a rescue mission," he said.

"You know we—"

"—don't usually do that, yeah. And I know we don't know where they are... except, I might know how to find that out."

She frowned. "How?"

"Erica's locked out now because the wards are back up, but somehow... I think she knows where the Vampires are. I think she could show us where they are."

Malia seemed unsure. "Suppose this is true... You think she can just lead us? You can ask her and she'll do it?"

"Yeah," Stiles said. "I think I can. I've been fighting her all this time, but I think if I actually try to work with her, she'll help. I think that's what she's always wanted. She knew the wards were weak and that the Vampires had been lying in wait. They can't be too far away from us... they had to have stopped for daylight and hidden out somewhere. We might be able to get to them before the captives die."

"But Erica isn't here. You said she can't get through the wards. How will you get her to help us?" Malia asked.

"Take me to the front gates."

After a quick word to Chris about 'investigating something', Malia led Stiles outside, and they walked the long way to the entrance to the school. Neither of them said anything.

The guardians monitoring the entrance were surprised by the request, but Malia insisted it would just be for a moment. They slid the heavy gate open, revealing a space only big enough for one person to get through at a time. Malia and Stiles stepped outside.

A headache almost immediately built up behind Stiles' eyes, and he started to see faces and shapes. It was just like in the airplane. Here he could see all sorts of spirits. But he no longer feared them. He was in total control.

"Go away," he said to the gray, looming forms around him. "I don't have time for you. Nor the space. Go." He put as much force as he could into his will and his voice, and to his astonishment, the ghosts faded.

Another battle he'd won.

A faint hum remained with him, reminding him they were still out there, and Stiles knew if he let down his guard even a moment, it would all hit him again.

He peered around. There was only one ghost he wanted to see.


	54. The Beginning

"Erica," he threw the name to the wind. "I need you."

Nothing.

Stiles summoned back up the command he'd used on the other ghosts just a moment ago. "Erica. Please. Come here." He saw nothing except the road in front of him.

A minute later, her shape materialized before him, looking a little paler than before. For the first time since all this had begun, Stiles was happy to see her. Erica, of course, looked sad.

"Finally. You were making me look bad." She simply stared, and Stiles immediately felt bad for joking. "I'm sorry. I need your help again. We have to find them. We have to save them. You understand, right?"

Erica nodded.

"Can you show me where they are?"

She nodded again and turned, pointing off in a direction that was almost directly behind Stiles.

"They came in through the back of campus?"

She nodded a third time, and like that, Stiles knew what had happened. He knew how the Vampires had gotten in. He turned to Malia. "We need a map," he said.

Malia walked back through the gate and spoke a few words to one of the guardians on duty. A moment later, she returned with a map and unfolded it. It showed the layout of campus, as well as the surrounding roads and terrain. Stiles took it from her and held it out to Erica.

The only true road out from the school was right in front of them. The rest of the campus was surrounded by forests and steep cliffs. Stiles pointed to a spot at the back of the school's grounds. "This is where they came in, isn't it? Where the wards first broke?"

Erica nodded. She held out her finger and without touching the map, traced a route through the woods that flanked the edge of a small mountain that eventually led to a small dirt road that joined an interstate many miles away.

"No, that's not right," Stiles said. "It can't be. There are no roads here. They'd have to go on foot, and it'd take too long to walk from the school to this other road. They wouldn't have had enough time. They'd be caught in daylight."

Erica shook her head and again traced the route back and forth. In particular, she kept pointing to a spot not far beyond the Academy's grounds. She held her finger there, looked at Stiles, and then looked back down.

"They can't be there now," Stiles argued. "It's outside. They might have come in through the back, but they had to have left through the front — gotten in some kind of vehicle and took off."

Erica shook her head.

Stiles looked up at Malia, frustrated. "Is there any building or anything out there?" He pointed at the spot Erica had indicated. "She says they were going out to that road. But they couldn't have walked there before the sun came up, and she claims they're there."

Malia's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Not that I know of." She took the map from Stiles and brought it to the other guardians to check with them. While they talked, Stiles glanced back at Erica.

"You better be right about this," he warned her.

She gave him a weak smile.

"Have you seen them? The Vampires and their captives?"

She nodded.

"Are they still alive?"

She nodded.

Malia walked over. "Stiles..." There was a strange note to her voice. "Stephen says there are caves right at the base of the mountain here."

Stiles met her eyes, no doubt looking just as astonished as she did. "Are they big enough...?"

"For the Vampires to hide out in until nighttime?" Malia nodded. "They are. And they're only five miles away."

It was almost impossible to believe. The Vampires were practically right next door to them, waiting for nightfall so that they could finish their escape. Now they had an odd situation in their hands.

Under normal circumstances, they would have never pursued the Cold Ones. Those who were taken were usually written off as dead. This time, however, they knew exactly where they were. The Vampires were essentially trapped.

For Stiles, the choice was quite obvious. He honestly couldn't figure out why they weren't in those caves right now, flushing out the Vampires and looking for survivors. Malia and he hurried back, anxious to act on their news, but they had to wait until all the guardians gathered.

"Do not interrupt them," Malia told him during the meeting. "They'll make the right choice. You just have to be patient."

Stiles' dad appeared beside them. "I hope you know, Stiles, that if there's a rescue, it's not going to be a 'we' thing. You aren't going."

"Why?" Stiles exclaimed. "You know I can help. You know what I did. You guys need as much help as you can get, and there are plenty of other novices who are ready too. Bring Kira, and we'll be unstoppable."

"No," his dad said quickly. "Not her. You should have never gotten a half-breed involved, let alone one as young as her."

"But you saw what she could do."

"Yes, I did. And I fear the consequences of that."

The caves' layout was examined in detail by one of the teachers who was also a geologist. People asked questions. Then decision time came.

Stiles braced himself.

One by one, the guardians stood up and expressed their commitment to going on the rescue mission. Everyone was ready for a fight. They wanted it. The Vampires had gone too far.

"Well, then," said Chris Argent, glancing around. "We'll plan the logistics and head out. We've still got about nine hours of daylight to go after them before they leave."

"Wait," said Guardian Stilinski. All eyes turned to him. "I think there's one other thing we should consider. I think we should allow some of the senior novices to go."

This started a small outcry, but it only came from a minority. Stiles' dad gave an argument similar to what Stiles had given him. He also maintained that novices would not be in the front lines but that they would serve more as backup should any Vampire get through. The guardians had almost approved of this idea when he dropped another bomb on them.

"I think we should bring some half-breed with us."

One of the guardians shot up. He had a huge gash on the side of his face. "What? Are you insane?"

Guardian Stilinski fixed him with a calm look. "No. We all know what my son and Kira Yukimura did. One of our biggest problems with Vampires is getting past their strength and speed to go in for the kill. If we bring powerful half-breeds, we have a distraction that will give us an edge. We can cut them down."

A debate broke out. It took every ounce of self-control Stiles had not to join in. Every minute that passed was another minute they weren't going after the others. It was another minute in which someone might die.

"They're being idiots," he hissed to Malia.

Her eyes were on Chris, as he debated a guardian. "No," murmured Malia. "Change is happening before your eyes. People are going to remember this day as a turning point, Stiles."

And she was right. Once again, the guardians slowly signed on with the idea. This was more than just their fight — it was the half-breeds' too.

Stiles felt triumphant and exultant. Malia was right. This was the moment their world would change.

 _But not for four hours._

"More guardians are coming," Malia told him when he once again expressed his outrage.

"In four hours! Everyone could be dead by then."

"We need an overwhelming show of force," she said. "We need every edge we can get. If we go in unprepared, we could lose more lives than that. Come on," she added, gesturing toward the exit. "Let's go outside."

"Won't they need you here?"

"No. Most of what they're doing now is waiting for the others, and they have more than enough people right now to help plan the attack. Your dad's leading that."

Outside, they sat on the grass under the delicious sunlight. From there, they could see some signs of the attack: damage to buildings, bloodstains in unexpected places, etc. Most noticeable of all was the mood. Even in full daylight, there was a darkness around them, a heavy sorrow that you could almost reach out and feel.

"You told me you had a theory about why the wards broke," she said.

Stiles had nearly forgotten. No one had asked many questions about it, not yet. The immediate concerns had been to get new wards up and tend to their own people.

"Ethan's group was doing their initiation right there by the wards. You know how stakes can negate wards because the magic go against each other? I think it's the same thing. Their initiation rights used a lot of magic, and I think they negated the wards in the same way."

"Magic is used all the time on campus, though," pointed out Malia. "Why has this never happened before?"

"Because magic isn't usually happening right on top of the wards. The wards are on the edges, so the two don't usually conflict. Also, I think it makes a difference in how the magic is being used. Magic is life, which is why it destroys Vampires and why they can't cross it. The magic in stakes is used as a weapon. So was the magic in the torture session. When it's used in that sort of negative way, I think it cancels out good magic."

Malia stared at the horizon. "I never would have thought that was possible, but it makes sense. The principle really is the same as for the stakes."

Stiles thought about Ethan's idiotic group. Bad enough they'd done what they did to Scott, but this? Letting Vampires into the school? How could something so stupid and petty on their part have led to this sort of disaster?

"Stiles, about what happened—"

Stiles glanced at her, suddenly scared of what she might say. They hadn't had time to talk about ot yet. Would she say that it'd been wrong? That it could never happen again? That she already regretted it? Deciding he didn't want to hear it, he said the first thing that came to his head, the one thing he knew to be true: "Look, I love you, and I don't want to keep pretending like I don't."

That caught her off guard. Malia stopped whatever she was going to say and just stared at him. "I don't either," she decided. "I don't want any more lies."

Only the relief he felt proved how scared he was of what she thought. But this was it. They had finally reached the point where they weren't going to deny their relationship anymore. "Then what'll happen now?"

Malia stared off into the sky ahead, face thoughtful. "After you graduate and are out with Scott..." She didn't finish, but there was no need; Stiles understood what she wasn't saying.

"You're going to ask to be reassigned. You won't be his guardian."

"I don't need to," she shrugged. "And it's better this way. He needs two guardians perfectly dedicated to him. If I can get assigned somewhere at Court, we'll be near each other all the time. And in a secure place like that, there's more flexibility with a guardian's schedule."

Stiles realized there was no option they had that was ideal. Each one came with hard choices. He knew it was hard for her to give up Scott. She cared about him and wanted to keep him safe. But she cared about Stiles more.

"Well," he said, realizing something, "we might actually see more of each other if we're guarding different people. We can get time off together. If we were both with Scott, we'd be swapping shifts and always be apart."

After all this time, after all the heartache, Malia and Stiles were going to make this work. There was always the possibility she could get assigned away from Court, but even so, they'd still manage to get some time off together every once in a while. The time apart would be agony, but they would make it work. And it would be better than continuing to live a lie.

Yes, it was really going to happen. Stiles was going to have it all. Scott and Malia. The thought that he could be with both of them was going to make him strong. He'd tuck it away in the back of his mind, like a good luck charm, and used it to crush the Trickster's presence.

"A lot of people aren't going to be happy," she said, but Stiles didn't care at all what other people were going to think. In a normal world, this would have been a happy morning after sex. They wouldn't be preparing for battle and worrying about their loved ones. They'd be laughing and teasing each other while secretly planning their next getaway.

They didn't live in a normal world, of course, but when she smiled, it was easy to imagine they did. Dark times were ahead of them, but with her by his side, Stiles felt like he could do anything.

Even face down a pack of hungry Vampires.


	55. The Other Half

An hour before departure, they met again to go over the plan. They were going to attack from both ends. Fifteen guardians would go in from each side, accompanied by three half-breeds each. Ten guardians would remain at each entrance to hold back any escaping Vampires. Five novices would stay with them.

Stiles was assigned to watch the entrance on the far side. He was proud of that. Malia and his dad, unfortunately, were part of the groups actually going inside. Stiles wished desperately that he could have been with them, but he knew he was lucky to be along at all.

Their little army set out, moving at a brisk pace to cover the five miles. The group split when they reached the closest entrance to the cave. Malia and Guardian Stilinski were going in here, and as Stiles gave them one last glance, everything he felt was worry he'd never see them again.

Chris Argent and Adrian Harris were leading the group in. They stood poised at the entrance, waiting for the exact time they'd agreed upon with the other group.

The moment came, and guardians and half-breeds disappeared. Isaac Lahey was among them. He was the youngest half-breed present, and only because his power was very useful. Stiles didn't know any of the other half-breed who were there.

The rest of them stood there, lined up in a ring around the cave. They waited. There was nothing else to do. Every minute felt like an eternity. Then they heard it: the sounds of fighting. Muffled cries and grunts. A few screams. All of them tensed, bodies so rigid they nearly snapped.

A few minutes into it, they heard the sound of footsteps running toward them. Their stakes were ready. But it wasn't a Vampire who came out. It was a half-breed. She was scraped up and dirty but alive. She collapsed into the arms of the first person she could get to and cried.

A minute later, another half-breed came out. He too looked worn, and his neck showed puncture marks. Nonetheless, despite what horrors he must have faced, he was calm and joined the others in the circle.

Two more half-breeds and a novice came out. Several minutes passed, though with no one else. Stiles' shirt was drenched, soaked through with sweat.

Eventually, the guardian in charge received a message through his walkie-talkie. Most of the prisoners had gotten out, but their people were trapped. There was a stalemate.

The tension around them was so thick, they could barely breathe. No one else was coming out. No more reports were being made. The guardian glanced up and looked alarmed. Stiles followed his gaze — the sun was significantly lower.

Another message came through. The guardians were still having trouble with the retreat.

"Stephen, you go in," said the commander. He obviously wanted to go in too, but as the leader for this side, he was supposed to stay stationed here until the last possible moment. He sighed. "Stilinski, go with him."

Stiles didn't waste a moment. Following Stephen, he slipped into the cave where it was really cold. It was also dark and it smelled like sweat and blood. It was sickening. It reminded Stiles too much of Spokane.

Stephen flipped on a small light attached to his jacket. "I wish I could tell you what to do, but I don't know what we'll find," he told Stiles. "Be ready for anything."

The darkness in front of them began to fade. The sounds grew louder. Suddenly, they found themselves in a larger chamber. A fire burned in one corner — one that the Vampires had made? — that was providing the light.

Part of the wall had fallen in, creating a pile of stones. No one had been crushed under it, but it had almost entirely blocked the opening to the other side of the cave. Seven guardians — including Malia and Chris — were trapped by ten Vampires. There were bodies lying on the floor.

The problem was obvious: these Vampires needed to be taken out before the guardians could make their escape. Stephen and Stiles came up from behind but three Vampires turned toward them. Two jumped Stephen, and the other came at Stiles.

The Vampire grabbed hold of Stiles and slam him against the wall. Stiles didn't even feel it. He just kept moving, going on the offensive. He eluded his next attack, got in some blows of his own, and managed to slip down and stake the Vampire before his next hit. Then he went to help Stephen. He'd taken out one of his attackers, and between the two of them, they finished the third Vampire.

That left six.

Stephen and Stiles jerked the Vampire closest to them out of the circle and took him down. With the numbers reduced, the other guardians were having an easier time getting to the rest. They started freeing themselves from their trapped position, and their numbers alone were now an aid.

When the Vampire count was down to two, Chris yelled at them to start escaping. Their alignment in the room had changed. They were now the ones surrounding the last two Vampires.

Malia staked one of the two Vampires. One left. Stephen started to retreat. He shouted something to Chris, who yelled something back without looking at him. Chris, Malia, and two others were closing in on the last Vampire.

"Stilinski," yelled Stephen, beckoning.

 _Follow your orders_ , said the Trickster.

Stiles started to follow him and another guardian did the same. Then Chris and Malia caught up to them.

"They're dead," Chris said. "I think this is it."

Malia and Stiles exchanged brief, relieved glances, and then they were on the move. This was the long part of the tunnel, and they hurried down it, anxious to get out of there. At first, they encountered nothing, and then, at a T intersection, seven other Vampires jumped them — three on one side and four on the other. One of the guardians never saw it coming. A Vampire grabbed him and snapped his neck so quickly that it looked effortless.

Stiles doubled back, ready to get into the fray. But they were in a narrow part of the tunnel, and not all of them could get through to the Vampires. Stiles was stuck in the back. Chris caught a glimpse of him and a couple other guardians. "Start retreating!" he yelled.

None of them wanted to leave, but there wasn't much they could do. Stiles saw another guardian fall, and his heart lurched. He hadn't known him, but it didn't matter. In seconds, his dad entered the tunnel and was on the Vampire attacker, driving his stake through his heart.

Then Stiles lost sight of the fight as he rounded another corner with the three guardians with him. Farther down the corridor, he saw faint purplish light — the exit. Faces of other guardians peered in at them. _They'd made it._

But where were the others? His dad? Malia? Chris?

They ran to the exit, emerging into the air. His group clustered by the opening, anxious to see what had happened. The sun, Stiles was dismayed to see, was nearly gone.

Moments later, his dad and the others came tearing down the hall. Guardian Stilinski gestured for them to retreat — everyone was supposed to go now. By the numbers, one more guardian had gone down. But they were so close. Everyone around Stiles tensed up. So close. So, so close.

But not close enough.

Three Vampires lay in wait in one of the alcoves. They let most of the guardians pass, but they attacked a few. It all happened so fast; no one could have reacted in time. One of the guardians was pulled aside and the Vampire bit his face. Stiles heard a strangled scream and saw blood everywhere.

The second guardian that was attacked, was hastily saved by Stiles' dad who jerked him away and shoved him forward toward the exit.

And the third guardian that was attacked was Malia.

In all the time Stiles had known her, he'd never seen her falter. She was always faster, always stronger than everyone else. Not this time. Something in the Vampire shocked her. The Vampire caught hold of her braid — the braid of hair she should've cut — and pulled her. Malia fell back. When her head hit the ground, the Vampire knelt, bent over and bit her neck.

Stiles heard another scream — this time, it was his own.

Guardian Stilinski started to double back toward the fallen, but then five more Vampires appeared. It was chaos. People started running everywhere. Panic took over.

Stiles couldn't see Malia anymore; he couldn't see what had happened to her. Indecision flashed over his dad's features as he tried to decide to flee or fight, and then, regret all over his face, he kept running toward them and the exit. Making the exact opposite choice, Stiles tried to run back inside. He met with his dad halfway and Noah shoved him back outside.

"You have to go, Stiles! More are coming. Sunlight is over."

Stiles fought against him. _Didn't he understand? Malia was in there. Stiles had to get Malia._

Chris, dragging a guardian, started yelling others. They needed to get the half-breeds to safety. But few were listening. People ran. Screamed. Panicked.

A group of Vampires were after them, skidding to a halt just on the edge of the waning light. They were waiting for the sun to go away. Any minute now...

Stiles was still fighting his dad. Guardian Stilinski grasped a hold of his son and tugged him away. "Stiles, we have to get out of here!"

"No! She's still in there!" Stiles shouted, straining as hard as he could. "Malia's still in there! We have to go back for her! We can't leave her!"

He was rambling, hysterical, shouting at them all that they had to go rescue Malia. He could feel the Trickster growing stronger through his despair. It was getting so hard to breathe. People were banging against them. His dad shook him hard and leaned close so there were only a couple inches between them.

"There is nothing you can do. We can't go back in there. The sun will be down in fifteen minutes, and they are waiting for us. We're going to be in the dark before we can get back to the wards. We need every second we can get — it still may not be enough. Stiles!"

Stiles could see the Vampires gathered at the entrance, their red eyes gleaming with anticipation. They completely filled the opening. Ten of them. Maybe more. His dad was right. With their speed, even their fifteen-minute lead might not be enough. And yet, Stiles still couldn't take a step. He couldn't stop staring at the cave, back where Malia was, back where half of his soul was.

She couldn't be dead. If she was, then surely he would be dead too.

Suddenly another face was before him — Isaac. "Run!" he yelled, using his persuasion, his power. "She is dead! You're not going to join her!"

Stiles felt those words filling his mind. The Trickster tried to block Isaac's power, but he couldn't. The boy was too strong. Those words took over everything. They were the only things that made sense because all he could do for Malia right now was not die.

"Run!" Isaac insisted and this time his magic hit Stiles with everything..

Feeling like every step broke another piece of his heart, Stiles ran.


	56. The Goodbyes

Most of them made it back to campus safely.

Once back behind the wards, the adults had a lot of other things to concern themselves with. All of the captives had been rescued — all the ones that were alive. They had rescued twelve. Six guardians had been lost. _Had their lives been worth it?_

"You can't look at it that way," Isaac told Stiles. "You didn't just save those lives. You guys killed almost thirty Vampires, plus the ones on campus. Think about all the people they would have killed. You essentially saved all those people's lives too."

But Stiles wanted to trade all those lives for Malia's.

 _It is possible she isn't dead,_ the Trickster suggested trying to sound friendly but Stiles knew he was only doing this to torture him. _The bite looked pretty serious but that Vamp could have incapacitated her and then fled. She could be lying in the caves right now, dying, needing you._

Finally, after everything and all this time, he had found a way of driving Stiles crazy. There was no way he could go back. Not until daytime. Another party would go then to bring back their dead so that they could bury them. Until then, Stiles had to wait.

Rather than go to his dorm, Stiles went to the chapel. He needed to do something until the caves could be checked out. Praying was as good an option as any.

A lot of people had decided to do the same thing. Some sat alone, some sat in groups. They cried. They knelt. They prayed. Some simply stared off into space, clearly unable to believe what had happened.

Stiles found an empty pew in the very back corner and sat there. _Malia couldn't be dead._ There was no way she could be. Surely, if she was, he would know. He tried desperately to put his thoughts into the forms of prayers, but he didn't know how.

Hours passed. People came and went. Stiles didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep until Scott woke him up. His eyes were as gentle and compassionate as those of the saints.

"Hey, man," he said. "We've been looking all over for you. Have you been here the entire time?"

"Pretty much."

"You should go eat something."

Stiles let Scott drag him away to get food. But when he sat at the cafeteria table and stared at the tray in front of him, the thought of eating anything made him want to puke. Scott gave up after that and they both went to Stiles' bedroom. He threw himself on the bed and soon fell asleep again.

The next time he woke up, it was his dad beside him.

"Did you find her?" Stiles demanded. "Is she..." It was too much to hope for, too much to ask. "Is she alive?" Oh God. What if his prayers had been answered?

His dad didn't answer right away. Stiles barely recognized his voice when he did. "She wasn't there, son."

Stiles sat up on the bed. "What's that mean? Maybe she's injured and left to get help...?"

His dad wouldn't look at him.

"No," Stiles gasped out. "You don't think..."

A tear leaked out of his father's eye — Stiles hadn't even thought the guy _could_ cry. "I don't know what to think, Stiles. If she survived, it's possible... it's possible they took her for later."

The thought of Malia as a 'snack' was too horrible for words — but it wasn't as horrible as the alternative. They both knew it.

"I'm sorry, Stiles. We can't know for sure. It's likely she's just dead, and the Vampires dragged her body off."

 _He was lying._ It was the first time in Stiles' entire life that his father had ever told him a lie to protect him. He wasn't the comforting kind, wasn't the kind who would make up pretty stories in order to make someone feel better. He always told the harsh truth.

Not this time.

Stiles got up and ran out of the room. He ran and ran until he reached the place Ethan's group had attacked Scott and stepped across the invisible lines that marked the boundaries of the Academy's grounds.

"Erica!" Stiles shouted. "E, I need you."

It took her a little while to materialize. This time, she not only seemed ultra-pale, she also appeared to be flickering, like a light about to go out. She was ready to leave, he realized. To leave forever.

"Is she dead?" he went straight to the point.

Erica shook her head.

"Is she alive?"

Erica shook her head.

Stiles blinked. The answer he had feared. _Neither alive nor dead_. The world swam around him, sparkles of color dancing before his eyes. "Is she... one of them?"

Erica hesitated only a moment, like she was afraid to answer, like she too wanted to spare him, and then she nodded.

Stiles turned his back and ran again, this time to the half-breed dorm. He knew what he needed to do. It was tie. It was right. He found Lydia's room and knocked on her door.

"Little guardian," she exclaimed. Her hair was messy and she had dark circles under her eyes. "Yeah, I know," she said as if reading his mind. "I don't look so good. I saw a lot of deaths. The auras are getting to me. There's so much sorrow around here. You can't even begin to understand. It radiates from everyone on a spiritual level. It's overwhelming. It makes your dark aura downright cheerful. What about you? I'm sorry for—"

"I need money," Stiles told her, not bothering with pretense.

Lydia arched an eyebrow. "Unexpected. From you, at least. I get that kind of request a lot from others. Pray tell, what would I be funding?"

"I'm leaving."

"Also unexpected. You're only a few months out from graduation."

"It doesn't matter. I have things to do."

"Things that are going to get you into trouble, I suppose. Why do you think I'll give it to you?"

Stiles hesitated. "Because you're my friend. And I desperately need help."

"That's not fair," she said, slurring her words a little. "You're using those puppy-eyes on me! How could I resist?"

"Will you help me then?" Stiles insisted. "You're the only one who can."

She turned serious. "Are you ever coming back?"

"I don't know."

Tipping her head back, she exhaled a heavy breath. "Maybe it's for the best if you leave. Maybe you'll get over her faster if you go away for a while. Wouldn't hurt to be away from Scott's aura either. It might slow yours from darkening — stop this rage you always seem to be in. You need to be happier, Stiles. And stop seeing ghosts." She went back into her room and then returned with a large stack of cash she handed to him wordlessly and then grabbed a cellphone and made some calls. Then she handed him a piece of paper. It had the name and address of a bank. "Just set an account for you with a lot of money in it, Stiles. Just be careful."

Without hesitating, Stiles reached out and hugged her. "Thank you," he said. "I won't forget this."

* * *

The next day, Stiles got up early, long before everyone else was awake. He slung a bag over his shoulder and walked over to the main office in the administrative building, where he handed the secretary a stack of papers. "I'm withdrawing."

Her eyes widened to impossible size. "But... what.. .you can't... Let me at least get your father so we can—"

"I'm eighteen today," Stiles pointed at the paper. "He can't do anything anymore."

The secretary did what he asked and made a copy of the official paper that declared Stiles was no longer a student at the Academy of Beacon Hills.

Stiles had almost made it out the front gate when Scott came running, calling his name. "I can't believe it," he said, shaking his head. "Something told me you'd do this, but I still can't believe it."

"Can you read my mind now?"

"No." Scott looked at him apologetically. "I've been so caught up with my own problems that I didn't notice. How could I not notice? I can't believe how blind I was. What Gerard said... he was right." A flash of anger, both in his feelings and his eyes, hit Stiles. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. "Why didn't you tell me you loved her?"

Stiles faced his best friend. "I couldn't tell anyone."

"Stiles... We've been through everything together. Do you really think I would have told? I would have kept it secret."

"I know." Stiles looked at the ground. "I know you would have. I just... I couldn't talk about it. Not even to you. I can't explain it."

"Did she..." Scott let the question hang for a while. "Did she feel the same?"

Stiles' answer was a tiny nod. "But we knew we couldn't be together, not... well, not when we were supposed to be protecting you."

Scott stumbled backwards like he'd been punched. "What?"

"If we were together, we'd worry more about protecting each other than you. We couldn't do that. It wouldn't be fair," Stiles tried to explain. Guilt coursed through Scott at the thought that he'd been responsible for keeping them apart, so Stiles added: "It's not your fault."

"Surely... there must have been a way... It wouldn't have been a problem." His mind was a tumble of emotions. He felt sorry for Stiles, but at the same time, he was angry. "You should have told me," he repeated. "I feel like you don't trust me."

"I trust you."

"Is that why you're sneaking off?"

"That has nothing to do with trust," Stiles admitted. "It's me... well, I didn't want to tell you. I couldn't bear to tell you I was leaving or explain why."

"I already know why," he said. "I'm not stupid."

"How?"

"I was there. Last fall in that van. The shopping trip? Matt Dahler, right? You and Malia were talking about Vampires, about how becoming one makes you something twisted and evil... how it destroys the person you used to be and makes you do horrible things. And I heard... I heard you both say you'd rather die than become a monster like that."

Silence fell between them. Stiles' hands were shaking. The Trickster was jumping in excitement for what was to come. "I have to do this. I have to do it for her."

"No," Scott said firmly. "You don't have to. You didn't promise her anything."

"Not in words. You don't understand."

"I understand that you're trying to cope and that this is as good a way as any. You need to find another way to let her go, Stiles."

Stiles shook his head. "I have to do this."

"Even if it means leaving me?"

The way he said it, the way he looked at Stiles, a flood of memories flitted through his mind. They'd never been apart. Together since childhood. Inseparable. Bond.

This was what Marin Morrell had been talking about. Stiles would finally have to choose between them.

"I have to do this," he said one more time. "I'm sorry."

"You're my guardian!" Scott argued. "We share a bond. We're supposed to be together. If you leave me..."

The ugly coil of darkness was starting to raise its head in both of them. They were so connected right now, it didn't make a difference whom it was coming from. "If I leave you, they'll get you another guardian. Two of them. You're the last McCall. They'll keep you safe."

"You said the same thing. Friends don't abandon each other."

And that's when Stiles stopped seeing his friend and saw only the half-breed. _Another_ half-breed. Just like the others.

"This is not about you, okay? This time, it's about me. Not you. All my life, it's been this same bullshit. They come first. Well, I did my time. I've lived my life for you. I've trained to be your shadow. Now, I'm tired. I want to come first. I matter too. I'm tired of looking out for everyone else and having to put aside what I want. Malia gave her life for you people and you can't spare a thought to help her!"

Scott was staring at him, shocked and hurt. "But Stiles... she's dead."

Stiles shook his head. "No," he said. "But she will be soon."

He left his best friend there and walked toward the gate. It felt like another piece of his soul was dying. Soon there wouldn't be anything left inside of him.

 _Except me,_ said the Trickster. _I'll always be here. Happy birthday, Stiles._

When he was out there he found Erica waiting for him. Stiles could barely see her at all now.

"Look who came to say goodbye. I can see you're about to move on."

She actually smiled.

"Well, I hope you find peace. You deserve your rest. Although I do have one last question for you. Do you know where she went?"

Erica's form grew fainter and fainter, and just before it went altogether, she whispered one little word: "Home."

Turning away, Stiles stared at the long road winding off ahead of him.

Then he set off to kill the girl he loved.

 **End of Act III**


	57. The Alchemist

**Act IV**

 _"Chaos has come again..."_

Stiles was being followed.

It was kind of ironic, considering the way he'd been following others for the last few weeks.

If he had to guess he'd say his follower was human like him. This person was moving a little less stealthily than he'd have expected of a guardian or a Vampire. Footsteps were clearly audible against the pavement of the dark side streets he was traveling on, and once, he'd caught a brief glimpse of a shadowy figure.

It had all started earlier at the _Bülbül_ , a night club for mythological creatures. The _Bülbül_ was well known among rich half-breeds who traveled abroad, and now Stiles could see why. No matter what time of the day it was, people at the _Bülbül_ wore fewer pieces of clothing as possible without being completely nude. The whole place looked like some kind of temple, one of those mosques where people went to pray, but that's not what happened in there. The walls were covered in blue mosaics and the windows were made of blue glass. The result was fascinating; and along with the drugs and the booze that made its way in there, it was no wonder people were left in complete ecstasy.

Elaborate chandeliers glittered in the air, lighting up the decor so that even in dim lighting, the whole establishment sparkled blue. Under the large dome was the dance floor. To the corners, there were large lounge and bar areas where people could mingle.

Stiles had been arrogant enough to think he could find someone right away to direct him to Malia's hometown in Nazilli. Stiles couldn't remember the name of the place for the life of him. There were a number of peaceful communities in Turkey but hardly any in Nazilli, which made him believe most local half-breeds would be familiar with her birthplace. Unfortunately, it turned out that the half-breeds who lived in human cities were very good at keeping themselves hidden.

So, he'd begun staking out the _Bülbül_ , which wasn't easy. It was hard for him to blend in there. Stiles had soon found that a nude chest and allowing people draw _Mehndi_ designs on his skin went a long way toward helping him get by. The waitstaff had come to know him and were happy to give him the corner table he always asked for.

The _Bülbül_ might have been an elite hangout for half-breeds, but it was also frequented by humans and it was hard to tell them apart in the craziness that went on in there. Stiles saw a group of half-breed women accompanied by two guardians, one male and one female, who sat dutifully and quietly at the table as their charges gossiped and laughed over _Yeni Raki._

Stiles sat across the room in his corner, picking over his _Imam Bayildi_ , a side dish made basically of eggplant, onion and garlic, which Stiles thought was disgusting, but it seemed to be everywhere in Nazilli, particularly in the nice places. Eggplant was like their favorite food and they add it to everything.

It became a test of his skill, studying the half-breeds when their guardians weren't watching. Stiles had had the same training and knew their tricks, and managed to spy without detection. He kept wanting to get one of the women alone, away from the watchful eyes of the guardians so that he could question her. But it was impossible. The guardians never left their charges unattended.

 _Approach the whole group or don't approach at all,_ the Trickster suggested.

Just as Stiles was considering that, one of the women left the table to walk up to the bar. The guardians watched her, of course, but seemed confident about her safety and stayed put. Stiles strolled casually from his table and approached the bar, like he too was going to get a drink. He stood by as the woman waited for the bartender and studied her in his periphery. All of her movements, even the way she stood, were graceful, like a dancer's. Stiles leaned toward her.

"Hey, there."

She jumped in surprise and looked over at him. She was older than he'd expected. Her blue eyes assessed him quickly, recognizing him as a human. "Hi," she said warily, the one word carrying a thick accent.

"I wonder if you could help me? I'm looking for a small town, a peaceful community for the families of guardians, out in Nazilli. Do you know what I'm talking about? I really need to find it."

Again she studied him, and he couldn't read her expression. "Don't," she said bluntly. "Let it go." She turned away, her gaze back on the bartender.

Stiles touched her arm. "I have to find it. There's a girl..." he stopped himself. Just thinking about Malia made his heart stick in his throat.

 _Focus, Stiles,_ the Trickster said. _Focus._

The woman looked back at him. "They don't like outsiders," she said. "They are hard people. You should leave them alone." Her face might have been impassive, but there was anger in her voice. "And so should they be. Deserters all of them. Walked away on their duty toward us. They are better off in there where they don't get in the way. They are nothing."

"You know where it is," Stiles said, gritting his teeth. He didn't like that half-breed's attitude. Her words were harsh and entitled, like humans had an obligation toward half-breeds.

 _They sort of do,_ the Trickster pointed out. _They come first, remember?_

 _Shut up,_ Stiles told him.

"Please, you have to tell me where it is. I have to get there."

"Is there a problem here?"

Both she and Stiles turned and looked into the fierce face of one of the guardians. The guy was only a little older than Stiles and had a hard expression.

"No," Stiles said. "I was just asking her about a peaceful community in Nazilli. Do you know it?"

He didn't blink. "No."

 _Both are playing difficult,_ the Trickster said. _Just your luck._

With no other words, Stiles grabbed his coat and left the Bülbül, ignoring the Trickster's advice to force it out of them. It was a Saturday night, and partygoers filled the streets. As he walked through the crowds, surrounded by Turkish conversation, he resisted the urge to look behind him.

Yet when he turned down a quiet street that was a shortcut back to his hotel, he could hear the soft sounds of footsteps. Stiles picked up his pace and darted around a few corners, one of which led him into a dark, deserted alley. It made for a good ambush spot when he ducked into a doorway.

He didn't have to wait long. A few moments later, he heard the footsteps and saw his pursuer's long shadow appear on the ground, cast in the flickering light of a street lamp on the adjacent road. His stalker came to a stop, no doubt searching for him.

 _Really,_ the Trickster said, _this guy is careless._

Stiles had to agree. No guardian in pursuit would have been so obvious. The pursuer took a few more steps, and that's when Stiles made his move. He leapt out, fists ready. "Okay, I only wanted to ask a few questions, so just back off or else—"

He froze. The guardian from the club wasn't standing there.

The guy didn't look much older than Stiles. He was a little taller, with dark blond hair cut short and a navy blue trench coat. His face was partly covered in shadow, but even in poor lighting, Stiles could make out his annoyed expression.

"It's you, isn't it?" he asked. His English was as American as Stiles'. "You're the one who's been leaving the string of Vampire bodies around the city. I saw you back in the club tonight and knew it had to be you."

"I..." Stiles had no idea how to respond. A human talking casually about Vampires?

"Look, you can't just do that, okay? Do you know what a pain in the ass it is for me to deal with? This internship is bad enough without you making a mess of it. The police found the body you left in the park. You can't even imagine how many strings I had to pull to cover that up."

"Who—who are you?" Stiles asked at last. It was true; Stiles had left a body in the park, but what was he supposed to do?

"Parrish," the guy said wearily. "I'm Jordan Parrish. I'm the Alchemist assigned here."

"The what now?"

Parrish sighed loudly. "Of course. That explains everything."

"No, not really," Stiles said, finally regaining his composure. "In fact, I think you're the one who has a lot of explaining to do."

"And attitude too. Are you some kind of test they sent here for me? Oh, man. That's it, right?"

Stiles was getting angry now. He didn't like being chastised; certainly not by a human who made it sound like killing Vampires was a bad thing. "Look, I don't know who you are or how you know about any of this, but I'm not going to stand here and—"

 _Behind you!_ the Trickster warned.

Immediately, Stiles' hand went for the silver stake he kept in his coat pocket just as the Vampire attacked Parrish. Going for him instead of Stiles was bad form on the Vampire's part. Stiles was the threat; he should have neutralized him first. Their positioning had put Parrish in his way, however, so the Vampire had to dispatch him before he could get to Stiles. He grabbed Parrish's shoulder, jerking him to him.

A swift kick knocked him into a neighboring building's wall and freed Parrish from his grasp. The Vampire grunted on impact and slumped to the ground, stunned and surprised. Abandoning Parrish, he focused his attention on Stiles, red eyes angry and lips curled back to show his fangs. He sprang up from his fall with that preternatural speed and lunged for Stiles.

Stiles dodged him and attempted a punch that he dodged in return. His next blow caught Stiles on the arm, and he stumbled, just barely keeping his balance. Stiles's stake was still clutched in his right hand, but he needed an opening to hit his chest.

Just then, Parrish came up and hit the Vampire on the back. It wasn't a very strong blow, but it startled him. That was the opening. Stiles sprinted as hard as he could, throwing his full weight at the Vampire. His stake pierced his heart as they slammed against the wall. It was as simple as that. The undead stopped moving. Stiles jerked out his stake once he was certain the Vampire was dead and watched as his body crumpled to the ground.

Just like with every Vampire he'd killed lately, Stiles had a momentary surreal feeling. _What if this had been Malia?_ Stiles tried to imagine her face on this Vampire. His heart twisted in his chest.

 _Get over it,_ the Trickster said annoyed. _It's just some random Vamp._

Stiles checked on Parrish. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, looking shaken but otherwise unharmed. "Nice work," he said. "I've never... actually seen one of them killed..." He looked a bit in shock, so Stiles took his arm and started to lead Parrish away.

"Come on, let's get out to where there's more people."

The suggestion of departure snapped Parrish out of his daze. "What?" he exclaimed. "You're just going to leave him too?"

Stiles threw up his hands. "What do you expect me to do? I could move him behind those trash cans, but that's literally the best I can think of."

"Right. And if someone shows up to take out the trash? Or comes out of one of these back doors?"

"Well, I can hardly drag him off. Or set him on fire. A Vampire barbecue would kind of attract some attention, don't you think?"

Parrish shook his head in exasperation and walked over to the body. He made a face as he looked down at the Vampire. Parrish reached into his pocket and produced a small vial from it. With a deft motion, he sprinkled the vial's contents over the body and stepped back.

Where the drops hit the corpse, yellow smoke began to move outward, spreading horizontally until it cocooned the Vampire entirely. In a few seconds, the smoke drifted off entirely, leaving an innocuous pile of dust behind.

"You're welcome," Parrish said flatly.

"What the hell was that?" Stiles exclaimed.

"My job. Can you please call me the next time this happens?" He started to turn away.

"Wait! I can't call you... I have no idea who you are!"

Parrish glanced back at Stiles. "You're serious, aren't you? I thought you were all taught about us when you graduated."

"Oh, well. Funny thing because... I kind of, uh, didn't."

Parrish's eyes widened. "You took down one of those... things... but never graduated?" Stiles shrugged. Parrish stared. "Fine. I guess we need to talk."

 _Do we ever,_ the Trickster added.


	58. The Unnatural

They went inside the first bar they could find. Parrish ordered water only, in fluent Turkish. Stiles felt the need for something stronger. Considering his harsh attitude, Stiles expected Parrish to interrogate him right away, but the guy remained quiet, avoiding eye contact. It was strange. Parrish seemed almost... uncomfortable.

Stiles, on the other hand, had no such hesitation about busting into uncomfortable topics. In fact, it was kind of his trademark. "So, the name's Stiles. Now that we now each other, are you ready to tell me what's going on?"

Parrish looked up. Now that they were in brighter light, Stiles could see that his eyes were green with a little gold in them. It was disturbing; kind of looked like real, pure gold. "I told you," he said. "I'm an Alchemist."

"And I told you, I don't know what that is."

Parrish swallowed, like he was bracing himself, and then a rush of words came out. "Back in the Middle Ages, the Alchemists wanted to turn lead into gold. But that was just a doorway into the supernatural world. What they found was even more magical: the half-breeds. Consequently, that was when the half-breeds began to stay away from humankind. They had their magic, but humans were starting to outnumber them. We still do. So they made a deal with the Alchemists. If we would help half-breeds and their societies stay secret from humans, they would give us these." He pointed at his golden eyes.

"What is that?"

"What you get when you inject gold, unicorn blood, poison and a magical tear to your eyeballs."

"What?" Stiles' voice came out too loud, and some people in the restaurant turned to look.

"I'm not thrilled about it, but it's our reward for helping them. The combination of all four give us some half-breed traits. We almost never get sick. And we also live much longer than normal humans." He shook his head, looking angry. "We don't have a choice, alright? This career is a family thing; it gets passed down being an Alchemist. We all have to learn about mythological creatures. We work connections among humans that let us cover up for them since we can move around more freely. We've got tricks and techniques to get rid of magical bodies, as you saw. In return, though, we wish to stay apart from half-breeds as much as we can. Only very few half-breeds know about us. And the guardians can only know after they start their jobs."

Stiles' head was reeling. He had never considered anything like this. "Why—why keep the charm to yourselves?" he decided to ask. "Why not share it with the human world?"

Parrish grimaced. "Because its power stops us from speaking about half-breeds in a way that would endanger or expose them. Thus, the poison."

"What, it kills you?"

Parrish stared at Stiles like that was obvious.

"Okay," Stiles said. "Sounds a little harsh, but moving on... Why do you want to stay away from them? I mean—"

"It is our duty to God to protect the rest of humanity from evil creatures of the night." Absentmindedly, his hand went to a golden cross at his neck.

 _A soldier to God,_ the Trickster mocked. _He is disgusted by half-breeds and whoever communes with them._

The full impact of that sank in. "Wait a minute," Stiles exclaimed indignantly. "Are you talking about half-breeds _and_ their guardians? We're all evil creatures of the night?"

Parrish didn't respond.

"We're humans too," Stiles reminded him.

Parrish's face stayed bland. "You believe they're God's plan. That is a lie. Whoever made them... God had nothing to do with it. They're unnatural and yet you serve them."

Stiles only thought Scott was unnatural that one time he'd put ketchup on a taco. "You serve them too. Obviously."

"No. I serve human beings. People who are better off not knowing of the existence of their kind. I protect them from you. You protect the monsters. We're very different, you and I."

"Okay. I can see how you'd think that. But half-breeds aren't like Vampires."

"Vampires are half-breeds too. They are the very same. Just because they fight among each other, doesn't mean they're different. And in the end, it all comes down to the same thing: any human who learns about half-breeds or guardians will inevitably learn about Vampires. And that puts them in mortal danger."

"But knowing about Vampires might enable humans to protect themselves." Stiles didn't know why he was arguing, but it felt like what he should be doing.

Parrish scoffed. "There are a lot of people who would be tempted by the thought of immortality, even at the cost of serving Vampires in exchange for being turned into a creature from hell. You'd be surprised at how a lot of humans respond when they learn about Vampires. Immortality's a big draw, despite the evil that goes with it. A lot of humans who learn about Vampires will try to serve them, in the hopes of eventually being turned."

"That's insane—" Stiles stopped.

 _Is it?_ the Tricksters asked him. _With all the evidence you've found of humans helping the Cold Ones? Are you still in denial, Stiles?_

"And so," continued Parrish, "that's why it's best if we just make sure no one knows about any of you. You're out there, all of you, and there's nothing to be done about it. You do your thing to get rid of Vampires, and we'll do ours and save the rest of my kind."

He said that like Stiles didn't belong, like he wasn't human at all.

"Alright," Stiles said. "Here's a question. Do you have contacts all over Turkey?"

"Unfortunately," he said. "When Alchemists turn eighteen, they're sent on an five-year internship to get firsthand experience in the trade and make all sorts of connections. Thank God, this is my final year. I would have rather stayed in Utah."

 _That's crazier than everything else he's said,_ the Trickster chuckled.

"What kind of connections?" Stiles asked.

Parrish shrugged. "We track the movements of a lot of half-breeds and guardians. We also know a lot of high-ranking government officials — among humans and half-breeds. If there's been a Vampire sighting among humans, we can usually find someone important who can pay someone off or whatever... It all gets swept under the rug."

 _Jackpot._

Stiles leaned in close and lowered his voice. "I'm looking for a village... a village for families of guardians out in Nazilli. I don't know its name. Do you know it? I think it starts with a... a D?"

Parrish didn't answer right away, but his eyes betrayed him. "I might."

"You do!" Stiles exclaimed. "You have to tell me where it is. I have to get there."

He made a face. "Are you going to join them?"

"No," Stiles said haughtily. "I just have to find someone."

"Who?"

"Someone."

That almost made him smile. "I'll be right back," he said abruptly. Parrish stood up and strode across to a quiet corner of the cafe. Producing a cell phone from his pocket, he turned his back to the room and made a call.

Stiles waited pondering the possibilities before him, wondering if finding Malia's town would really be this simple. And once he was there... would it be simple then? Would she be there, living in the shadows? And when faced with her, could Stiles really drive his stake into her heart?

Parrish came back. "I do know where the village is. I've been there before."

Stiles straightened up. _Holy crap._ This was actually going to happen, after all these weeks of searching.

"Thank you so much—"

Parrish held up a hand to silence Stiles. "But I'm not going to tell you where it is."

"W—what?"

"I'm going to take you there myself."

"What?"

 _That's not the plan,_ the Trickster said. _You don't need him. Use him and get rid of him._

Stiles attempted reason. "That's not necessary," he said, forcing a smile. "It's nice of you to offer, but I don't want to inconvenience you."

"Well," he replied dryly, "there's no getting around that. And it's not me being nice. It's not even my choice. It's an order from my superiors."

"It still sounds like a pain in the ass for you. Why don't you just tell me where it is and blow them off?"

"You obviously don't know the people I work for."

"Don't need to. I ignore authority all the time. It's not hard once you get used to it."

"Yeah? How's that working out for you with finding this village?" he asked mockingly. "Look, if you want to get there, this is the only way."

"Why? Why do you have to go too?"

"I can't tell you that. Bottom line: they told me to."

Stiles eyed him, trying to figure out what was going on here. Why on earth would anyone care where one teenage guardian went? The Trickster still thought it was a horrible idea, but Stiles said: "How soon can we leave?"

Parrish looked kind of disappointed at the response, almost as though he'd hoped Stiles would decline and then he'd be off the hook. They chose a time and place to meet in the morning and then said goodbye to each other.

* * *

Back in the hotel, Stiles was almost falling asleep when something caught his attention. Something that wasn't exactly happening to him.

It was late morning and Scott was pissed off. Really pissed off. "Why does she think she can just snap her fingers and get me to go anywhere she wants, anytime she wants?" he growled.

"Because she's the queen. And because you made a deal with the devil." His girlfriend, Kira, was sitting by the window in the attic of the school's chapel watching him pace around.

"For the last few weeks, I've done everything she's asked! I hate her trying to dictate every part of my life lately."

"Like I said, you made a deal with the devil," Kira said. "You're her _darling_ now. She wants to make sure you're making her look good."

Scott scowled. "Should I just sit and take it?" he asked. "Just smile and do whatever she wants?"

"You can tell her the deal's off. You'll be eighteen in a couple of months. Royal or not, you're under no obligations. You don't need her to go to a big school. We'll just take off, you and me. Go to whatever college you want. Or don't go to college at all. We can run off to Paris or something and work at a little cafe. Or sell bad art on the streets."

This actually made Scott laugh, and went to sit near Kira. "Right. I can totally see you having the patience to wait on people. You'd be fired your first day. Looks like the only way we'll survive is if I go to college and support us."

"There are other ways to get to college, you know."

"Yeah, but not to any that are this good. Not easily, at least. This is the only way. I just wish I could have all this and stand up to her a little. Stiles would."

Kira scoffed. "Stiles would have gotten himself arrested for treason the first time Natalie asked him to do something."

Scott smiled sadly. "Yeah. He would have."

Kira kissed him. "He's okay, Scott. Wherever he is, he's okay."

Scott stared off into the attic's darkness. "Yeah... he is."

They left the chapel after that. When they reached the administration building, they met Finstock standing in the hall with an older half-breed man and a teenage boy.

"Ah, Mr. McCall. There you are," Finstock said. "This is Eugene Raeken and his son, Theo. This is Scott McCall and Kira Yukamura. Mr. Raeken is going to be the new headmaster here."

Scott had still been smiling at the guy politely, but his head immediately jerked toward Finstock. "What?"

"I'm going to be stepping down," explained Finstock, voice flat and emotionless. "Though I'll still be serving the school as a teacher."

"You're going to teach?" Kira asked incredulously.

He gave her a dry look. "Yes, Miss Yukamura. It was what I originally went to school for. I'm sure if I try hard enough, I can remember how to do it."

Scott turned back to Mr. Raeken. "Well, it's very nice to meet you. I'm sure you'll do a great job. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you." He was playing the proper prince role perfectly.

"Actually," said Mr. Raeken, "there is." He had a deep, booming voice, the kind that filled a room. He gestured toward his son. "I was wondering if you could show Theo around and help him find his way here."

Theo smiled, and for the first time, Scott really paid attention to him. "I promise not to be too much of a pain," said Theo. "And if you want, I'll give you some insider's tips on Court life. I hear you're going to be moving there."

Instantly, Scott's defenses went up. He realized what was going on. Not only had Queen Natalie ousted Finstock, she'd sent a keeper for Scott. A companion who could spy on Scott and attempt to train him up to Natalie's standards.

"That'd be great," he said. "I'm pretty busy lately, but we can try to make the time."

Neither Theo's father nor Finstock seemed to notice the back off subtext, but something flashed in Theo's eyes that told Scott the message had come through.

"Thanks," said Theo.

"Good, good," said Mr, Raeken. "Maybe you can show Theo to the dormitories?"

"Sure," said Scott, wishing he could do anything but that.

He, Kira, and Theo started to leave, but just then, a woman appeared. She was a guardian, a little older than them.

"Ah, there you are," said Mr. Raeken. "This Jennifer Blake, Theo's guardian. Of course, while on campus, he doesn't need to be with her all the time. You know how it goes. Still, I'm sure you'll see her around."

Scott hoped not. Jennifer didn't look as completely unpleasant but she had a certain dour nature that seemed extreme even among guardians.

With little conversation, Scott and Kira escorted Theo to dormitories and then left.

Stiles came back to his own body, back in the hotel. He knew he shouldn't care about Academy life anymore. Yet lying there and staring into the darkness, he couldn't help but wish he was back home for the night.


	59. The Passives

At any other time in life, Stiles would have loved exploring Turkey. Parrish and Stiles walked aimlessly, taking in the sights and saying very little. Istambul was a beautiful place, thriving and full of people and commerce. But despite how cool it all was, Stiles actually tried to tune out the city's sights and sounds after a while because it reminded him of... well, _her_.

They had first-class train accommodations, which turned out to be a lot smaller than Stiles'd expected. There was a combination bed/sitting bench on each side, a window, and a TV high on the wall. Still, Parrish and Stiles would each have their own space, even if the room was cozier than they would have liked.

It wasn't that late yet when Parrish said he wanted to sleep, and Stiles didn't want to make him more irate than he already was. So they turned off all the lights. Stiles wasn't tired, but sleep took him nonetheless. In his dream, he saw himself by the beach; a beach he'd come to know quite well by now.

He groaned. "Oh, not today."

"Why not today? Why not every day?"

Stiles turned and found himself looking into the beautiful face of Lydia Martin. "I suppose I should be grateful you only show up about once a week."

She grinned and sat down in one of the lounge chairs. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Stiles. Or so they say. Don't want you to take me for granted."

"We're in no danger of that; don't worry."

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me where you are?"

"Nope."

"You're killing us, Stiles," she said melodramatically. "Every day is agony without you. Empty. Alone. When we're all together, we just sit there wondering if you're still alive." She spoke in an exaggerated, silly sort of way that was characteristic of her. Lydia rarely took things seriously and always had a flippant edge.

Stiles crossed his arms. "Well, I'm still alive, clearly. So I guess you can let me go back to sleep."

"How many times have I told you? You _are_ asleep."

"And yet I inexplicably feel exhausted talking to you."

This made her laugh. "Oh, I do so miss you." The smile faded. "He misses you too."

Stiles stiffened. _He._ She didn't even need to say his name. There was no question as to whom she was talking about.

Choosing between Scott and Malia had been the hardest decision of Stiles' life, and time passing hadn't made it any easier. He might have chosen her, but being away from Scott was like having an arm cut off, particularly because the bond ensured they were never truly apart.

Lydia gave him a canny look, like she could guess his thoughts. "Do you go see him?"

"No," Stiles lie. "That's not my life anymore."

"Right. Your life is all about dangerous vigilante missions."

"You wouldn't understand it."

She shook her head. "It would have been easier for both of us if we could find someone else," she said enigmatically. "Are you ever coming back?"

She asked him this all the time, but now it felt different. Thinking of Parrish's possible lead, Stiles hesitated. "I might."

Hope blossomed on Lydia's face. "That's the most optimistic thing you've told me so far."

"Don't read too much into it." Her mischievous grin returned and Stiles had an idea. "Hey, have you ever heard of the Alchemists?"

"Sure," she said.

Typical. "Of course you have."

"Why? Did you run into them?"

"Kind of."

"What'd you do?"

"Why do you think I did anything?"

She laughed. "Alchemists only show up when trouble happens, and you bring trouble wherever you go. Be careful, though, Stiles. They're religious nuts."

The dream ended there, sending Stiles back to normal sleep. Except, instead of returning to his own dreams, he woke up. Around him, the train hummed comfortingly. Stiles noticed then that Parrish's bed was empty. Probably in the bathroom, he thought, but the Trickster felt uneasy.

 _These Alchemists are mysteries,_ he said. _He might have something going on. You should find him. Now._

Stiles wasn't really in the mood but he knew that if the Trickster had awaken him he just wouldn't leave him alone until he did what he wanted. After slipping on his shoes and stepping out in the hall adjacent to their cabin, he discovered he didn't have to look very far. The corridor was lined with windows, all draped in those rich curtains, and Parrish stood with his back to Stiles, gazing outside.

"Hey..." Stiles began hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

Parrish turned slightly toward him. One hand playing with the cross around his neck. "I can't sleep," he said bluntly.

"Is it—is it because of me?"

His only answer was to turn back to the window.

"Look," Stiles said, feeling helpless. "If there's anything I can do... I mean, aside from going back and canceling this trip..."

"I'll handle it," Parrish said. "This is just, well, it's really strange for me. I never spent this much time around someone... someone that so belongs to them."

Stiles didn't like that comment but decided to let it pass. "We could probably get you a room of your own, if that would help. We can find an attendant, and I've got the money."

Parrish shook his head. "It's just a couple of days, if that."

Stiles didn't know what else to say. "Okay," he said at last. "Let me know if you change your mind." He returned to his bed and fell asleep surprisingly fast, despite worrying that Parrish would be standing in the hall all night. Yet, when Stiles woke in the morning, Parrish was curled up on his bed, fast asleep. Apparently, his exhaustion had been so strong that even fear of Stiles had driven him to rest.

Stiles got up quietly and went to have breakfast. He was finishing eating when Parrish wandered in. He slid across from Stiles and ordered an omelet when the server came by, again speaking in Turkish.

"How do you know that?" Stiles asked.

"I had to learn it growing up. And a few other languages."

"Wow. You must have to learn a lot of stuff for this job," Stiles mused. "And what about that stuff you used on the Vampire? That disintegrated the body?"

Parrish almost smiled. "Well, I told you the Alchemists started off as a group of people trying to make potions, right? That's a chemical we developed to get rid of magical bodies fast."

"Could you use it to actually kill one?" Stiles asked.

"Afraid not. Only works on corpses."

Stiles wondered if Parrish had other potions up his sleeve. It seemed very likely. "What are we going to do when we get to Nazilli?"

"We'll get a car and drive the rest of the way."

"Have you been there? To this village?"

Parrish nodded. "Once."

"What's it like?" Stiles asked, surprised to hear a wistful note in his own voice. There was a piece of him that just wanted to cling to everything he could of Malia. He wanted to know everything about her that he hadn't known before.

"It's like any other peaceful town, I suppose."

"I've never been to one."

Parrish ate silently for a while. "The town is made of humans who know about the magic world. They gather and live together there, away from all the fighting and the killing, away from the pain and suffering. They're happy there. Sometimes, they let half-breeds live with them. The ones who agree to what they stand for. But that doesn't happen very often. They have a whole mindset that the half-breeds aren't able to understand."

"Why? What's that like?"

Parrish set his fork down. "Let's just say you'd better brace yourself."

The rest of the trip passed uneventfully. Parrish never entirely lost that discomfort he seemed to have around Stiles, but other than that he was very friendly. He napped throughout the day, and Stiles began to think he was just an insomniac with bizarre sleep patterns. On the third day of their trip, they arrived in Nazilli. Yet as the day went on, they discovered a problem. No one would take them to the village. Apparently, the road was too dangerous.

"A lot of Vampires travel the country looking for victims, and the village is just an area they pass through," Parrish explained to Stiles. "The road is kind of remote, so some Vampires will stay for a while and try to get easy prey. Then they move on."

 _That definitely throws a wrench into your plans,_ the Trickster commented. He was right. If Malia wasn't residing in this town, Stiles was going to have some serious problems. Suddenly, the enormity of Turkey hit him. Looking for Malia in any number of cities would prove impossible.

Parrish used the next few hours to buy a car. If no one wanted to take them, they'd go by themselves. The farther they drove from Nazilli, the more remote the terrain became. Parrish seemed to be completely in love with the car he'd bought and Stiles used that as a means of conversation.

"My mom's a mechanic," Parrish revealed. "She's really good and taught me a lot. I wouldn't have minded doing that for a living. Wouldn't have minded going to college, either." There was a bitter note in his voice. "I guess there are a lot of other things I wish I could do."

"Why can't you?"

"I had to be the next family Alchemist. My brother... well, he's older, and usually it's the oldest kid who has to do the job. But, he's kind of... worthless."

That sounded incredibly harsh; Stiles had never heard anyone refer to a sibling as worthless but decided not to ask. "If you could go to college, what would you study?"

"Greek and Roman architecture."

"Seriously?"

"The ingenuity it took for some of that... well, it's just unreal. If the Alchemists won't send me back to the U.S. after this, I'm hoping I'll get assigned to Greece or Italy. But then again there are no guarantees you'll get what you want with this job."

He fell silent after that, and Stiles decided to leave him to his own thoughts of classic cars and architecture while his own mind wandered to topics of his own: Vampires, duty, Malia. Always Malia...

And Scott.

He was walking the empty corridors of the Beacon Hills Academy alone. All the while, his mind spun with worry. On the second floor however, Scott could make out the sounds of shouting. Despite knowing it had nothing to do with him, he hesitated, curiosity getting the best of him. A moment later, he quietly pushed the door open and stepped into the hall. The voices were coming from around the corner. Scott carefully peered around it.

Theo Raeken stood in the hallway facing his father. Their stances were rigid and hostile, and anger crackled between them. "I'll do what I want," he yelled. "I'm not your slave."

"You're my son," he said in a voice both calm and condescending. "Though at times I wish you weren't."

 _Ouch._ Both Scott and Stiles were shocked.

"Then why are you making me stay in this hellhole? Let me go back to Court!"

"And embarrass me further? We barely got out without damaging this family's reputation much. No way am I going to send you there alone and let you do God knows what."

"Then send me to Mom! Switzerland's got to be better than this place."

There was a pause. "Your mother is... busy."

"Oh, nice," said Theo, voice heavy with sarcasm. "That's a polite way of saying she doesn't want me. No surprise. I'd just interfere with her and that guy she's sleeping with."

"Theo!" Mr. Raeken's voice rang out loud and angry. Scott flinched and stepped back. "This conversation is done. Get back to your room. I expect you at breakfast tomorrow, and I expect you to be respectable. We have some important visitors."

"Yeah, and God knows we've got to keep up appearances."

Scott could hardly believe Mr. Raeken had said those things to his own son. For a few moments, there was silence. Then, he heard the sound of footsteps coming toward him. Theo suddenly rounded the corner and stopped in front of Scott.

"Well," he said flatly. "I guess you overheard our family drama."

Scott felt embarrassed at being caught spying. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I was just passing by..."

Theo gave a harsh laugh. "Well, I don't think it matters. Probably everyone in the building heard us."

"I'm sorry," Scott repeated.

"Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong."

"No... I mean, I'm sorry he... you know, said those things to you."

"It's part of being a 'good' family. Everyone's got skeletons in their closet." Theo crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "God, I hate him sometimes. No offense, but this place is so fucking boring."

"Why—why did your dad bring you here?" Scott asked.

Theo gave a harsh laugh. "He doesn't trust me enough to leave me behind. When we were at Court, I got involved with this girl who worked there. She was a nobody. Dad freaked out and was afraid people would find out. So when he got the job here, he brought me along to keep an eye on me and torture me. I think he's afraid I'll elope with a human girl or something."

Scott didn't say anything for a long time. He'd gone out of his way to avoid Theo Raeken diligently. But now, he wondered if he'd been wrong about the guy. Theo didn't seem like a spy for Natalie. He didn't seem like someone who wanted to mold Scott into a perfect royal. Mostly, Theo seemed like a sad boy whose life was spinning out of control. Someone who was being ordered around as much as Scott was lately.

"Do you want to eat lunch with Kira and me tomorrow? No one would mind if you came to our lunch period. I can't promise it'll be, um, as exciting as you want."

Now Theo hesitated. But slowly, a faint gleam of hope and interest appeared on his face. "Well, my other plans were to get drunk by myself in my room," he said at last.


	60. The Haunted

"This is as far as we can go today."

On the other side of the world, Parrish's voice startled Stiles out of Scott's thoughts. Stiles couldn't tell how long he'd been daydreaming, but Parrish had turned off the main highway and was driving them into a small town. The sky had turned deep orange, and the sun was sinking farther and farther into the horizon. It was nearly nightfall, and they needed to be off the road.

"We're only a couple hours away at most," Parrish continued. "We made really good time and should get there pretty quickly in the morning." He drove to the other side of the town and pulled up in front of a plain white house with a barn beside it. "Here's where we're staying."

They got out of the car and approached the house. "Are these friends of yours?" asked Stiles.

"Nope. Never met them. But they're expecting us."

 _More mysterious Alchemist connections,_ the Trickster said.

The door was answered by a friendly looking human in her twenties who urged them to come inside. Parrish's translation skills carried them through. He was more outgoing and charming than Stiles had seen him thus far—

 _Probably because our hosts aren't despicable night vultures,_ the Trickster finished the thought.

After dinner, Parrish and Stiles went to the room that had been prepared for them. It was small and plain but had two twin beds covered in thick, fluffy blankets. Stiles snuggled into his, grateful for the softness and the warmth, and wondered if he'd dream of Malia or Lydia.

However, he woke up to a slight wave of nausea rolling through him and the loud voice of the Trickster in his head warning him of danger.

Stiles bolted upright, every part of him awake and alert. There were no city lights to shine through the window, and it took him several seconds to make out anything in the darkened room. Parrish was curled up in his own bed, his face unusually at peace as he slept. Slipping quietly out of the bed, Stiles grabbed a hold of his stake and crept from the room without disturbing Parrish.

 _He isn't inside,_ the Trickster said. _He's on the side of the house near your room._

 _How can you know that, Bob?_ Stiles asked mentally.

 _I just know. And my name isn't Bob._

 _Whatever you say, Bob._

Still moving silently, Stiles went out the house's front door and walked around the corner, as quiet as the night around him. The nausea grew stronger as he approached the barn.

 _There_.

Right near the barn's entrance, Stiles could see a long shadow moving. He readied the stake and started to spring forward — and then something struck him on the shoulder. Stiles stumbled, astonished, and looked into the face of a Vampire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shadow by the barn materialize into another Vampire striding forward. Panic shot through Stiles. There were two of them.

 _Couldn't you have mentioned the other one?_ Stiles mentally argued with the Trickster. He didn't answer, which Stiles thought was suspicious. What if he'd done it on purpose?

The Vampire was a woman and for a split second Stiles feared it was Malia. But she was too short. Stiles swiped at her with his stake, hoping to wound her, but she dodged so quickly, he hardly saw her move. She struck out toward him in an almost casual way. Stiles wasn't fast enough to react and went flying toward the other Vampire, a guy.

Stiles responded quickly, leaping up and kicking him. Stiles held the stake out, creating distance between them, but it did little good when the woman came up from behind and grabbed him, jerking his body against hers. Stiles gave a muffled cry and felt her hands on his throat. She was probably going to break his neck, Stiles realized. He struggled, jostling her hands slightly, but as the other Vampire leaned over them, Stiles knew it was useless.

They'd surprised him. There were two of them. They were stronger. All was lost.

Panic surged in Stiles again, an overwhelming sense of fear and desperation. The feelings exploded within him, the rage and distress smothering him from within, feeding the Trickster.

And then it happened. It was like the earth burst open. Translucent forms, glowing softly in the darkness, sprang up everywhere. Some looked like normal people. Others were horrible, their faces gaunt and skull-like. Ghosts. Spirits. They surrounded them, their presence making Stiles' hair stand on end and sending a splitting headache through his skull.

The ghosts turned toward Stiles and he braced himself, trying desperately to summon up the strength to build barriers that would shut him off from the spirit world. Then Stiles realized he wasn't in control. His mouth opened and the Trickster's voice came out: "Protect the host, losers!"

The ghosts mobbed the two Vampires. The female Vampire immediately began waving her arms to fend the apparitions off, snarling in rage and something almost like fear. The ghosts didn't appear to be able to hurt the Vampires, but they were apparently pretty annoying... and distracting.

The Trickster stepped aside so Stiles could move his body again. He staked the male Vampire before he ever saw Stiles coming. Immediately, the ghosts around him moved to the woman. Stiles still had that ghost-induced splitting headache, but made his way to her and continued his efforts to get a shot in at her heart. She managed to keep her chest out of his range until one particularly terrifying ghost caught her off guard. Her momentary distraction gave Stiles his chance, and he staked her, too. She fell to the ground, leaving Stiles alone with the spirits.

It was just like that one time on the plane. They seemed fascinated by Stiles, in rush to get his attention. Desperately, Stiles tried again to summon his walls, to block the ghosts off from him. The effort was excruciating. Gritting his teeth, he focused every ounce of his strength into blocking out the ghosts.

"Go away," he hissed. "I don't need you anymore."

For a moment, it looked like his efforts were going to be useless. Then, slowly, one by one, the spirits began to fade and Stiles felt the control returning to him. And then he felt like every scrap of energy in his brain and body had been sucked out. He couldn't move. He couldn't think.

 _Did you bring them here?_ he used his last drop of strength to ask the Trickster.

 _You brought them here,_ he answered mockingly. _Got your emotions out of control again, Stiles. The anger, the fear... we like that. You know we do. Some came to try and take my place. I only gave them something else to do. The host must be protected, otherwise what's the point?_

 _Yeah, that doesn't even make any sense, since all the time I've known you you've been trying to get me killed._

 _No true. I just like a little chaos. But if you die,_ _Stiles, what happens to me?_

That sort of made sense deep down in Stiles' confused mind, but there was always the chance he was imagining the whole thing.

 _Whatever you say, Bob._

 _That's not my name!_

And then Stiles passed out.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he saw Malia. "Don't try to move," she said in a strong Turkish accent. "You took some bad hits."

Stiles blinked. She wasn't Malia although she looked a lot like her. She was older, in her forties maybe. She laid a cool cloth across his forehead. Stiles' body ached, and he was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. "Where's Parrish? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Don't you worry."

"Where am I?"

"In Dallica."

 _Dallica, Dallica..._ Somewhere, in the back of his head, that name was familiar. All of a sudden, it clicked. Long, long ago, Malia had said it. She'd only ever mentioned her hometown's name once and, even though Stiles had tried, he had never been able to remember it. And now he was here.

"Who are you?"

"Talia," she said. "Talia Tate."

Stiles almost passed out again. He wasn't usually big on God or fate, but now he was seriously reconsidering. After he'd passed out, Parrish had apparently made some frantic calls, and someone he knew in Dallica had driven to them, risking the darkness, to rescue and take them where Stiles could be treated. And then, somehow, out of all the humans in Dallica, Stiles had been taken to Malia's mother. That was enough to make him seriously consider that there might truly be forces greater than him at work in the universe.

Stiles soon learned Talia Tate had a reputation among her peers for healing: she'd had medical training and was the person the others went to in this region when they wanted to avoid attention. But Stiles was barely even listening; he was too busy staring wide-eyed at his surroundings and its inhabitants. Talia didn't live alone. All of Malia's sisters lived in the house too, along with their kids. The family resemblance was startling. None of them looked _exactly_ like Malia, but in every face, he could see her. The eyes. The smile. Even the sense of humor. Whenever Stiles looked at any of them out of his peripheral vision, he'd think he was seeing Malia. It was like a house of mirrors, with distorted reflections of her everywhere.

And the house... There were no obvious signs that Malia had ever lived there, but Stiles kept thinking, _this is where she grew up._

"You've made an amazing recovery," Talia noted. "I thought you were dead when Dia and Jordan brought you in."

"Who?" Stiles asked between bites of food.

Parrish sat at the table with the rest of the family. "Dia Genim," he said. "She's another Alchemist. One of my contacts. I... I didn't know how badly you were injured last night, so I called her. She was the one who brought you here."

Stiles wasn't interested in whoever that was and turned his attention back to Talia. "Thanks for taking me in."

Malia's older sister, Laura, sat at the table too, along with her small son, Baki, who was about eight and seemed fascinated by Stiles. Malia's younger sister, Cora, was also there. The third sister was named Kali and had left for work before Stiles woke up.

"Did you really kill two Vampires all by yourself?" Baki asked him.

"Baki," chastised Laura. "That's not a nice question to ask."

"But it's an exciting one," said Cora with a grin. Her brown hair was streaked with gold, but her dark eyes sparkled so much like Malia's when she was excited that it tugged at Stiles' heart.

"He did," said Parrish. "I saw the bodies. Like always." He wore that comically tormented expression of his.

"You must have had some good training then," said Laura. "You look like you should still be in school."

"Just got out."

"What in the world could bring you out here?" asked Talia with curiosity.

"I—I'm looking for someone," he said after a few moments' hesitation.

He was afraid they were going to press for details, but just then, the kitchen door opened and Malia's grandmother, Kara, walked in. She had poked her head in earlier and scared the hell out of Stiles. She looked like she was a gazillion years old and was so thin, it was a wonder the wind didn't blow her away. She barely stood five feet tall, and her hair covered her head in patchy gray wisps. But it was her eyes that truly frightened him. The rest of her might be frail, but those dark eyes were sharp and alert and seemed to bore into Stiles' soul. She was also the only one in the household who didn't speak English.

She sat down at one of the empty chairs, and muttered something in Turkish that made the others look uncomfortable. Parrish's lips twitched into a small smile. Kara's eyes were on Stiles as she spoke, and he glanced around for translation.

"Grandmother says you're not telling us the whole truth about why you're here. She says the longer you delay, the worse it will be," Cora explained. She then gave Parrish an apologetic look. "And she wants to know when the Alchemist is leaving."

"As soon as possible," said Parrish dryly.

"Well, why I'm here... it's kind of a long story," said Stiles.

Kara said something else, and Talia retorted with what sounded like a chastisement. To Stiles, she spoke gently: "Ignore her, dear. She's in one of her moods. Why you're here is your own business, although I'm sure Dia would like to talk to you at some point." She frowned slightly. "You should make sure you thank her. She seemed very concerned about you."

"I'd kind of like to see her too," Stiles mumbled, getting a little curious about this person who seemed to make everyone uneasy. "I'd also love to look around Dallica. I've never been in a place like this before. One of the communities, I mean."

Cora brightened. "I can definitely give you a tour, if you're sure you're feeling okay. Or if you don't have to leave right away."

Stiles glanced at Parrish questioningly. He shrugged. "Do whatever you want. I'm not going anywhere."


	61. The Düzenbaz

As soon as he'd finished his food, Cora practically dragged Stiles out the door, as if he was the most exciting thing that had happened around here in a while. Kara hadn't taken her eyes off him for the rest of the meal, and even though she'd never said anything else, her suspicious look clearly told Stiles she didn't believe a word he'd said.

Cora said downtown wasn't far from where they lived and was easy to walk to. The day was clear and cool, with enough sun to make being outside pretty pleasant. "We don't get a lot of visitors," she explained. "Except for some half-breeds, but most don't stay long."

As they approached the center of town, Stiles realized that Dallica wasn't huge, not like Istambul or even Nazilli, but it was a real town with a large human population. The whole setting was astonishingly normal, and when they reached downtown, lined with small shops and restaurants, it too seemed like any other place in the world people might live. Modern and ordinary, just with a slight orient feel.

"Are there any half-breeds here?" he wondered aloud.

Cora smiled. "Oh, sure. They just look so ordinary, you don't even notice them. I mean, they come here to hide, to run. To have a normal life away from all that... chaos."

Stiles' respect for the peaceful communities and the people who chose to live there grew every day. At Beacon Hills, there'd always been a certain level of prejudice put into the youths. Humans were supposed to give their lives for those who mattered more. There was no middle ground. There was no getting around that. And those who refused and walked away were treated like pariahs and should keep their distance. But was it so wrong to want to have a life? To want happiness? To walk away from all the violence of the rest of the world?

His thoughts were cut off when someone called Cora's name. They turned to see a guy crossing the street. He had bronze hair and dark eyes, and seemed to be around her age. He said something chatty and conversational to her. She grinned at him and then gestured to Stiles, giving his introduction in Turkish. "This is Ismail," she told Stiles.

"Nice to meet you," the guy said, also switching languages. He gave Stiles a quick assessment like he considered him a threat, and when he turned back to Cora, it was clear she was the object of his affections. "Are you going to Fatimah's party. It's Sunday night." He hesitated, turning a bit shy.

Cora turned thoughtful, and Stiles realized she was completely oblivious to his crush. "I'll be there, but..." She turned to Stiles. "Will you still be around?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "Probably not though."

Cora made a face. "I guess I'll go. Anything to have some fun around here."

"Dallica's not so bad," teased Ismail.

"Easy for you to say. You can leave if you want. You'll go see new and exciting places. Any place becomes a nightmare if you're forbidden to leave."

"Can't you?" Stiles asked her, thinking of Malia.

Cora frowned, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, I could... but that's not how we do it here. There are rules and... some strong opinions about what women are supposed to do. We must stay put until we get married. Our husbands may take us away, but... alone... it's considered strange."

Stiles thought about mentioning how Malia had left, but he didn't want to call attention to the fact that he knew her.

"Are you a guardian?" Ismail asked him suddenly.

Cora spoke before Stiles could come up with anything to say. "He killed two Vampires outside of town. By himself."

Ismail looked impressed. "You _are_ a guardian."

"Well, no... I've killed before, but I'm not actually sworn." For whatever reason, they both gasped, and Ismail said something in Turkish. "What?"

"You're..." Cora bit her lip, eyes contemplative as she groped for what she wanted to say. "Unpromised? But if you haven't graduated and gone through the ceremony, you haven't sworn loyalty to the half-breeds."

Stiles stared. "I didn't even know we still did that."

"For you to have killed so many Vampires and have no loyalties..." Cora shivered. "We call it _düzenbaz_. I don't know the English word. It's a rare thing. It's also a little... scary. You best not to tell anyone. They say the _düzenbaz_ bring chaos wherever they go."

 _Mmmmmm,_ said the Trickster. _Sounds like you._

Stiles was so shook he couldn't silence Bob. What if he was bad luck? He didn't want to be a problem. But what he was and what he had done was a rare thing back home as well. They might not have a name for it, but everyone knew.

"I should let you two go," said Ismail, his lovesick eyes back on Cora. "But I'll see you at Fatimah's for sure? Maybe sooner?"

"Yes," she agreed. They said their farewells in Turkish, and then he loped off across the street.

"I must have scared him off," Stiles said.

"No, he thinks you're exciting. You can bet on it."

"He thinks _you're_ exciting."

Her eyebrows rose. "What?"

"He likes you... I mean, _really_ likes. Can't you tell?"

"Oh. We're just friends."

Stiles could tell from her attitude that she meant it. She was completely indifferent to him, which was too bad. Letting poor Ismail go, Stiles brought up the guardians again. He was intrigued by the different attitudes around here. "You said you can't leave... but do you want to be a guardian?"

She shook her head. "It'd be too late for me even if I did. Guardians have to start training very early. You know this. And we don't get to train at all around here. We're not supposed to fight. We're against it, in fact. We removed ourselves from the rest of the world because we don't agree with the war between Cold Ones and half-breeds, and the guardians between the. No, I don't want to be a guardian. But there is so much out there. So much I'd like to do. But we're not supposed to. Only my sister left."

Stiles nearly tripped. "Y—your sister?"

"Malia," Cora said. "She said she'd leave. We didn't believe her, but she did it anyway. And we haven't seen her in a long time."

"Huh."

Stiles felt horrible and guilty. Guilty because he was keeping the truth from Cora and the others. Horrible because apparently no one from back home had bothered to pass the news on to her family yet. As it was, the more Cora began to talk about Malia, the sicker Stiles felt.

"Stiles? Are you okay?" Cora was peering at him with concern, probably because he hadn't said anything in the last ten minutes.

They had circled around and were almost back at her house. Looking at Malia's younger sister, at her open, friendly face and eyes that were so much like Malia's, Stiles realized he had another task ahead of him before he could go after Malia, wherever she was.

He swallowed. "I... yeah. I think—I think I need to sit down with you and the rest of your family."

"Okay," she said, the worry still in her voice.

Inside the house, Talia was bustling around the kitchen with Laura. Stiles thought they were making plans for tonight's dinner, which was startling considering they'd just finished a huge breakfast. In the living room, Baki was building an elaborate racetrack out of Legos. Kara sat in a rocking chair and appeared to be the world's most stereotypical grandmother as she knit a pair of socks. Except most grandmothers didn't look like they could incinerate you with a single glance.

Talia was talking to Laura in Turkish but switched to English when she saw Stiles. "You two are back earlier than I expected."

"We saw the town," said Cora. "And... Stiles wanted to talk to you. To all of us."

Talia gave him a look as puzzled and concerned as Cora's. "What's going on?"

The weight of all those Tate eyes on him made Stiles' heart start thumping in his chest. How was he going to do this? How could he explain something he hadn't spoken about in weeks?

"Stiles, what's wrong?" asked Talia. She looked so sweet and, well... motherly, that he nearly cried. Kara wore a very strange expression, however, almost like she'd been expecting something like this all along.

"Well... the thing is, the reason I came here, to Dallica, was—was to find you guys."

 _Not exactly true,_ the Trickster butt in.

"You see, Cora was talking about Malia earlier." Talia's face brightened when Stiles said her daughter's name. "And... I knew—er, know her. We went to school together. Then she was my teacher, too."

Laura and Cora lit up as well. "How is she?" asked Laura. "It's been ages since we've seen her. Do you know when she's going to visit?"

Stiles hesitated. "Uh... A month ago... our school was attacked by Vampires. A really bad attack... a huge group of Vampires. We lost a lot of people, half-breeds and guardians, both." His tongue felt thick in his throat. Stiles couldn't breathe. "We fought that night. Me and Malia. She was one of the leaders in the battle... and the way she fought... she was... she was so..."

His words were breaking up, but by this point, the others were catching on. Talia gasped and murmured in Turkish. Laura sat frozen, but Cora leaned toward Stiles. Those eyes that were so like her sister's stared at him intently, as intently as Malia would.

"What happened?" she demanded. "What happened to her?"

Stiles looked away from their faces, his eyes drifting to the living room. He was losing it. He wasn't going to be able to tell them the truth. His emotions were growing too powerful, his memories flooding him as he fought to think about something, anything, that didn't involve that horrible battle.

Then he glanced at Kara again, and something about her eerie, knowing expression inexplicably spurred him on. He had to do this. He turned back to the others. "She helped win the battle, and afterward, she helped lead a rescue mission to save some people that the Vampires had captured." Stiles stopped again and realized there was no gentle way to say it. "One of the Vampires there... he overpowered her."

Laura buried her face in her mother's shoulder, and Talia made no effort to hide her own tears. Cora wasn't crying, but her face had gone perfectly still. She was working hard to keep her emotions in check, just as Malia would have. She searched Stiles' face, needing to know for sure.

"Malia is dead."

It was a statement, not a question, but Cora was looking to Stiles for confirmation and, for a moment, he considered telling them that yes, she was dead. It was what the Academy would tell them, what the guardians would tell them. It would be easier on them... but somehow, he couldn't stand to lie to them, even if it was a comforting lie. Malia would have wanted the whole truth, and her family would too.

"No," Stiles said, and for a heartbeat, hope sprang up in everyone's faces... until he spoke again. "Malia's a Vampire."

The reactions were mixed. Some cried. Some were stunned. Kara and Cora simply took it in and kept their emotions from their faces, just as Malia would have done. Out of all of them, Kali, who came home shortly after the news broke, had the most intense physical reaction. She ran sobbing to her room and wouldn't come out.

It didn't take long, however, for Kara and Talia to spring into action. They spoke rapidly in Turkish, clearly planning something. Phone calls were made, and Cora was dispatched to run an errand. No one seemed to need Stiles, so he mostly wandered the house and tried to stay out of the way. "What's going on here?" he asked Parrish eventually.

"They're planning her funeral," he explained. "Or, well, her memorial service."

Stiles frowned. "But she's not dead—"

"Shh." Parrish cut him off with a sharp gesture and glanced warily at the others as they hustled around. "Don't say that."

"But it's true," Stiles hissed back.

Parrish shook his head. "Not to them. Out here... out in these communities... there's no in-between state. You're alive or you're dead. They aren't going to acknowledge her being one of... _those_." He couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice. "For all intents and purposes, she is dead to them. They'll mourn her and move on. So should you."

 _Easier said than done,_ Stiles thought. Problem was, that in-between state was all he had.

"Look..." began Parrish after several seconds of silence. "I'm sorry, alright? I had no idea. I haven't really been that nice to you. I mean, I'm not going to act like I feel any better about hanging out with you, but you're still... well, human, obviously. You still have feelings; you still love and hurt. And while we were coming here, you had all this horrible news in you, and I didn't make it any easier for you. So I'm sorry for that."

"Thanks, but you couldn't have known. And honestly, if I were in your place... I don't know. I'd probably act the same way."

"No," the other said. "You wouldn't. You're always nice to people."

Stiles gave him an incredulous look. "Have you been traveling with someone else these last few days?"

Parrish smiled. "Did you see Dia yet? When you walked around town?"

"No," Stiles said, realizing he'd forgotten about his mysterious rescuer. "Should I have?"

"I just figured she'd find you."

"Who is she? Why did she come get us when you told her I was hurt?"

Parrish hesitated. Then, after glancing around uneasily, he said in a low voice, "Dia's a really important woman. She's not Turkish, but she's in the country a lot, always on business, both illegal and legal, I think. She's friends with all the important half-breeds, and half the time, it seems like she controls the Alchemists, too. She's basically involved in everything. We have a name for her, behind her back, of course... _Yilan_."

"Yi—what?"

Parrish gave a small smile at his confusion. " _Yilan_ is Turkish for 'snake'. Like the snake in the Garden of Eden? Who made Eve fall? She was called a _Yilan_ and she too was a woman."

Stiles thought that was pretty freaky, but it made something click into place. The Alchemists allegedly had ties to leaders and authorities, and Dia apparently wielded a lot of influence with them. "Is she the one who wanted you to come with me here? Is she the Alchemists you spoke to?"

Parrish paused, then nodded. "Yeah... when I called that night in Istambul, I was told there was a search going on for you. Dia gave orders through the Alchemists for me to stay with you until she could meet up with us here. She's apparently been searching for you on someone's behalf."

Stiles went cold. Someone had been looking for him. But who? And for what reason? This Dia sounded like a high-ranking person, involved in practically everything. Who could've sent her? The queen? Had ordered Stiles to be brought back? Considering how much the queen hated him, it was more likely Natalie had sent Dia to make sure he _didn't_ come back.

Was he dealing with an assassin? Parrish certainly seemed to regard her with a weird mix of fear and respect.

"Maybe I don't want to meet her," Stiles said.

"I don't think she'll hurt you," Parrish seemed to read his mind. "I mean, she seemed genuinely worried about you. But be careful. She's always playing several games at once. She deals in secrets only."

"So you don't trust her?"

"And neither should you."

After that, Stiles decided to go outside, away from the sorrow and business indoors. He sat down on the top step of the backyard porch, watching Baki play. He was building a fort for some of his action figures. The news didn't mean as much to him as it did to the rest of the family.

With so much time on his hands, Stiles went for a quick check-in with Scott. He was kind of curious about how things had panned out with that Theo Raeken. He'd told Scott he was a Chimera, something his dad, a Ajatar (type of dragon), didn't appreciate. While Scott's intentions were good, he'd still had some misgivings about Theo. And yet, he was pleasantly surprised to see the boy fitting in perfectly, charming both Lydia and Kira.

Later, they headed to their next class together, just the two boys. "So... You really are dating Kira Yukimura?" Theo asked.

Scott seemed to find that funny. "Yeah, why?"

Theo hesitated. "Just that... I heard that you were with the princess."

Scott choked. "Where did you hear that?"

"At court. Queen was saying how happy she was for the two of you." Scott groaned. Theo laughed. "Hey, man, it's fine. She seems to like you. The queen. She talked about you all the time. She's proud of you."

"She's proud of how she manipulates me. I hate Court. She completely ignores Kira, unless when she has something insulting to say."

"Sorry," said Theo. "I didn't want to piss you off. I just wanted to know if the princess was available."

Scott wasn't pissed off, he was thoughtful. He was thinking about a word without a king or queen. He was thinking of change. Of a system that would treat everyone equally, royalty or not. Where even humans would be respected.

"Oh, that's Jennifer," said Theo. "I gotta go. See you later."

Scott looked at him. "Alright."

Theo waved and turned to leave.

"Hey, Theo?" Scott called.

Theo turned back around. "Yeah?"

"The princess is available."

Theo's only answer was a grin.


	62. The Memories

Back in Dallica, the memorial service was going forward. Neighbors and friends, all of them humans, slowly arrived, many bringing food. The kitchen turned into a banquet hall, with every counter and table surface covered in dishes. But before they ate, everyone went outside and gathered in a semicircle in the backyard, around a muslim priest. Everyone grew silent. It was sunset now, with orange fire burning in the western sky, and shadows falling across all of them. The priest performed a funeral service in Turkish, chanting in a voice that sounded unearthly in the darkening yard.

Stiles watched and waited, letting the priest's mournful voice fill his soul. His feelings for Malia churned within him like a growing storm, and Stiles worked to keep them in, locked up in his heart. When the service finally finished, the eerie tension that had engulfed the group dispersed. People moved again, hugging the Tates and shaking hands with the priest. He left shortly thereafter.

Food followed. Parrish stayed with Stiles a lot of the time, and while conversation was light between them, Stiles took comfort in the Alchemist's presence. They sat on the living room floor, leaning against the wall near the bookcase. People continued chatting in small groups. Stiles couldn't understand any of it, but he kept hearing her name mentioned: Malia, Malia. It was oppressive and smothering, the force of her name pressing on his heart. Malia, Malia. After a while, it grew to be too much, so Stiles went outside to get some air.

He walked down the street, not intending to go far. The night was warm and clear, with the moon and stars burning brightly in the blackness above him. When he was a couple of houses away, Stiles sat down on the curb. His peace was short-lived, however — his sharp ears picked up the sound of footsteps coming from behind him. Stiles turned.

A woman, tall and slim, with hair the color of honey was staring at him. Stiles gave her a wry half-smile. "Dia Genim, I presume."

"They've warned you about me," she said, with the very slightest hint of a smile. Her skin was like porcelain, her features kind and delicate, except for her eyes that were sharp and daunting. She dressed discretely in black, except for a cashmere green scarf around her neck.

"Yes. And I assume you already know who I am. So, the question now is... what are you doing here?"

"No," she said, the smile turning harder. "The question is, what are _you_ doing here?"

Stiles gestured back to the house, trying to play it cool. "I'm going to a funeral."

"That's not why you came to Turkey."

"I came to tell the Tates that Malia was dead, seeing as no one else bothered to." That was turning into a handy explanation for him being here, but as Dia studied him, a chill ran down Stiles' spine. She obviously didn't believe him, and Stiles felt the dangerous edge to her otherwise jovial personality.

"That's not the reason either. Don't you lie to me."

Stiles felt his hackles going up. "And don't interrogate me. Not unless you're ready to tell me why you risked driving that road to pick up Parrish and me."

"I was just helping out."

"Not from what I hear. You're the one who had the Alchemists send Parrish with me here."

"Oh?" Dia arched an eyebrow. "Did Jordan tell you that? That was bad behavior on his part. His superiors aren't going to like that."

 _Nice work, Stiles,_ said Bob. _You just ratted him out._

Stiles could've kicked himself. He'd spoken without thinking. He didn't want Parrish to get in trouble. "I forced it out of him," he lied. "I—I threatened him on the train. It wasn't hard. He already thinks I'm some kind of monster."

"That's what we're taught," said Dia. "They ask that we fear the half-breeds and those who protect them. We're bound by centuries of tradition and hiding behind crosses to protect us."

Stiles noticed she wasn't wearing a cross. "But you're different?"

She gave an elegant shrug. "I see differently. I see the gifts the half-breeds give us." She gazed up at the stars as she spoke, like some sort of philosopher musing on the mysteries of the universe.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure we could talk about how the Alchemists see the world all night," he snapped. "But I still want to know what you want with me."

"Nothing," she said simply.

"Nothing? You've gone to a lot of trouble to set me up with Parrish and follow me here for nothing."

Dia kept her eyes on the sky, and there was a dangerous golden glint in them. "You're of no interest to me. I have my own business to run. I come on behalf of others who are interested in you."

Stiles stiffened, and at last, true fear ran through him. There was a manhunt out for him. But who? Scott? His dad? Natalie? The others would seek him out because they cared. But Natalie... If she wanted him found, it might be because she wanted to ensure he didn't come back. And Dia Genim struck him as the kind of person who could make people disappear.

"And what do the others want? Do they want me home?" He tried to appear unafraid. "Did you think you could just come here and drag me back?"

That secretive smile of Dia's returned. "Do _you_ think I could drag you back?"

"Well," Stiles scoffed, again without thinking, "you can try."

Dia laughed out loud for the first time, a rich, deep sound filled with sincere amusement. "You live up to your brash reputation. Delightful."

 _She probably has a whole file on you somewhere,_ said Bob. _She probably knows what you like for breakfast._

"I'll make a trade with you," Dia offered. "Tell me why you're here, and I'll tell you why I'm here."

"I already told you."

In a flash, the laughter was gone. She took a step closer to where he sat, and Stiles held his breath. "And I told you not to lie to me. You've got a reason for being here. I need to know what it is."

"Stiles? Can you come in here?"

Back toward the Tate house, Cora's clear voice rang out in the night. Glancing over his shoulder, Stiles saw her standing in the doorway. Suddenly, he wanted to get away from Dia Genim. There was something lethal underneath that gaudy, jovial facade, and Stiles didn't want to spend another minute with her. Leaping up, he began backing toward the house. "Sorry I can't stay and chat."

"That's alright," Dia's quirky smile returned to her face. "We'll find time later."

"Not likely," Stiles said and hastily followed Cora into the house, not feeling safe until he shut the door. "I don't like that woman."

"Dia?" Cora asked. "I thought she was your friend."

"Hardly. She's some kind of mobster, right?"

"I don't know," said Cora, like it was no big deal. "But she's the reason you're here."

"Yeah, I know about her coming to get us."

Cora shook her head. "No, I mean here. I guess while you were in the car, you kept saying our surname. Dia figured you knew us. That's why she took you to our house."

"Ah."

"When she realized we didn't know you, she was going to take you somewhere else, but Grandma Kara said we had to keep you. I guess she'd had some dream that you'd come to us."

"What? Kara dreamed about me?"

Cora nodded. "It's this gift she has. Are you sure you don't know Dia? She's too big-time to be here without a reason."

Talia hurried over to them before Stiles could respond. She caught hold of Stiles' arm. "We've been looking for you. We thought you'd want to see this."

"This?" he asked, letting her drag him through the house to the backyard.

"This is the part where everyone remembers Malia by telling stories," explained Cora.

Stiles flinched. Did he want to see that? Suddenly, every face turned into a blur and Stiles thought he would faint. Laura was speaking. From time to time, there was a pause in which everyone would laugh. Cora kept close to Stiles and Parrish joined them.

"What is she saying?" Stiles whispered.

Cora listened before answering. "She's talking about when Malia was little, how she used to beg Laura and her friends to let her play with them. She was about four and they were eight and didn't want her around." Cora paused again to take in the next part of the story. "Finally, Laura told Malia she could if she let the other girls dress her like a doll. Malia refused and said she'd have a better time playing with insects."

Stiles couldn't help but laugh as he tried to picture that. Other people spoke, and Stiles tried to keep up with the translations. All the stories were about Malia's kindness and strength of character. Almost everyone could recall sometime that Malia had stepped up to help others, going out of her way to do what was right, even in situations that could put her at risk. Everyone agreed: Malia always did the right thing.

Realizing he was crying, Stiles used his sleeve to dry his face. He focused on the bonfire, watching the way the flames danced and shifted from orange to blue. He was taken by the memories he'd tried so hard to forget. That cave. The Vampires. The ones who'd been captured. How there had been more Vampires than they'd expected. Memories of the ones who'd died and the many more who had only survived because Malia had been there. She hadn't left the cave until there was nobody else. She didn't care about putting herself in danger. She wanted to make sure everyone would be fine.

Stiles had seen it in her eyes, that determination. He had known she would stay and kill every Vampire she could find. And later, they would've been together, like she had promised. Soon. So close...

Near the back of the crowd, Stiles noticed Dia. Her expression was unreadable. Hard, but not angry or scary. Small cups began circulating through the group, and someone handed him one. One of the few men present, stood up and raised his cup in the air. He spoke loudly and reverently, and Stiles heard Malia's name mentioned several times. Then the guy pointed at Stiles and said something else.

"What was that?" Stiles asked Cora.

She flushed. "Uh, he proposed a toast in your honor. For being... you know..." she stopped.

Stiles frowned. "For being what?"

"Malia's boyfriend," said Parrish dryly.

Stiles realized everyone was looking at him now. The man drank from his cup, his eyes never leaving Stiles' face. Everyone else did too, so Stiles followed suit. And nearly choked to death. It was like fire in liquid form. It took every ounce of strength he had to swallow it and not spray it on those around him.

Next thing, everyone came to shake his hand and ask him questions. They wanted to know about Malia, about what her life had been like recently. They also wanted to know about them as a couple. They all seemed to have figured out that they had been together and they were okay with it. Stiles was asked about how they'd met, how long they'd been together, all those silly things.

And the whole time, people kept refilling his cup.

Finally, people began to clear out. Stiles had no idea what time it was. He stood as well, finding it much harder to do than he'd expected. The world wobbled, and his stomach wasn't very happy with him. Someone caught a hold of his arm and steadied him.

"Easy," said Parrish. "Don't push it." Slowly, carefully, he led Stiles toward the house.

"What was that drink, gasoline?"

"No one made you keep drinking it."

"I had to be polite!"

"Sure you did."

They made it inside but each step was agony. "They all knew about me and her," Stiles murmured. "But I never told them."

"You didn't have to."

"They acted like I was her widower or something."

"You might as well be." They reached the room, and Parrish helped Stiles sit down on the bed. "If you're with someone long enough around here, they figure it's almost the same."

Stiles stared off without any particular focus and breathed: "I really do miss her."

"I'm sorry," said Parrish.

"Will it ever get better?"

"I... I don't know." And in his typically brusque way, Parrish left, turning off the lights and shutting the door.


	63. The Worthy One

Everyone had hit it off very well with Theo, who was the life of every party, so he became the new member of Scott's group of friends. And the impression Theo had left on Scott had been great indeed. The two of them became inseparable, skipping class, staying up late...

The memory brought a smile to his face, even as Scott stifled a yawn. It was hard to concentrate in class while fighting a slight hangover. Theo seemed to have a never-ending supply of liquor. Lydia had taken to this right away, but Scott had been a little more hesitant. He'd abandoned his partying days a long time ago, but he'd finally succumbed to Theo's life style. And came to realize that the party life was very demanding. Scott was exhausted all the time now.

Suddenly, a high-pitched wail pierced the air. Scott's head shot up, along with everyone else's in the class. In a corner of the room, a small fire alarm flashed and shrieked its warning. Naturally, some students started cheering while some pretended to be scared. The rest just looked surprised and waited for instructions. They were told to leave and Scott followed the others and fell in step with Kira.

"Did you set this up?" he teased.

"Wish I had. This class is killing me."

"You? I have the worst headache ever."

Kira gave him a knowing grin. "Let that be a lesson to you, you crazy wolf."

They joined in the semblance of a line the others were trying to form.

"I don't think this was planned," said Scott.

"Agreed," said Kira. "Which means even if there's no fire, it might take a while."

"Well, then. No use waiting around, huh?"

Kira and Scott turned around in surprise at the voice behind them and saw Theo.

"Did you do this?" asked Scott.

"It's so boring here. Somebody had to do something."

"Wow." Even Kira seemed slightly impressed.

Theo shrugged. "I told you. Boring. Now, come on while it's still chaotic."

Kira and Scott exchanged glances. "Well," he said slowly, "I suppose they did already take attendance..."

"Hurry!" said Theo. His excitement was contagious, and, feeling bold, Scott hurried after him, Kira in tow. No one noticed them cutting across the campus. They got outside to where Jennifer Blake stood leaning against the door. "Everything set?" Theo asked her.

Jennifer gave a swift nod as her only answer before straightening up and walking off.

Scott stared in amazement. "She just... she just let us go? And is she in on it?"

Theo grinned mischievously. "Jennifer's got better things to do than babysit us." They headed to Lydia's room and Theo beat on the door. "Hey, Princess! Open up."

"So much for stealth," Kira said. "Everyone's going to hear you."

"I need _her_ to hear me," Theo laughed. He kept pounding on the door and yelling, and finally, Lydia answered. Her red hair stuck up at odd angles, and she had dark circles under her eyes. She seemed more tired lately and Scott wondered if she'd been having bad dreams.

"What...?" she blinked. "Shouldn't you guys be in class? Oh God. I didn't sleep that much, did I? What time is it?"

"Time to let us in," said Theo, pushing past. "We've got refugees from a fire here." He flounced onto her couch, making himself at home while she continued staring. Scott and Kira joined him.

"Theo sprang the fire alarm," explained Scott.

"How juvenile," said Lydia, collapsing into a fluffy chair. "But why'd you have to come here? Is this the only place that's not burning down?"

"Aren't you happy to see us?" Theo eyed her speculatively for a moment.

"I might be."

He smiled.

"It's not going to take them that long to figure it out, you know," Scott said. "Things will be back to normal soon."

"Not necessarily," said Theo, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "I have it on good authority that another alarm is going to go off in the school once they open the doors."

"How the hell did you manage that?" asked Kira.

"Top secret."

Lydia rubbed her eyes and was clearly amused by this, despite the abrupt wake-up. "You can't pull fire alarms all day, Raeken."

"Actually, I have it on good authority that once they give the all-clear on a second alarm, a third's going to go off."

Scott laughed out loud, though a lot of it was due more to the girl's reactions and less to Theo's announcement. Kira, in fits of antisocial rebellion, had set people on fire. Lydia spent most of her doing crazy stuff. A society boy like Theo to astonish them was something truly remarkable.

"If the interrogation's over now," Theo said, "aren't you going to offer your guests any refreshments, Princess?"

Lydia yawned. "Make one yourself, insolent boy."

Theo got up and inclined his head toward Lydia's liquor cabinet. "With a kick, right?"

"You have got to be kidding," said Kira. "Do you even have a liver left?"

Theo wandered over to the cabinet and picked up a bottle of something. He held it out to Scott. "You game?"

Kira and Scott exchanged a look. "Ugh, no."

"Cowards," said Theo. He turned back to Lydia. "Well then, Princess, you're my only hope for a good time."

Stiles eyes flew open, and a deep, searing pain shot through the back of his skull. Scott's hangover had nothing on Stiles'. He started to close his eyes, wanting to sink back under and let sleep heal the worst of his pain, when his whole bed shook violently. Someone was kicking it.

Opening his eyes again, Stiles turned and found himself staring into Grandma Kara's shrewd dark eyes. Pursing her lips, she kicked the bed again.

"Hey," Stiles cried. "I'm awake, okay?"

Kara muttered something in Turkish, and Baki peered around from behind her, translating. "She says you're not awake until you're actually out of bed and standing up."

And with no more warning, the old woman continued kicking the bed. Stiles jerked upright, and the world spun around him. "Okay, okay. Are you happy now? I'm up." Kara's expression didn't change, but at least she stopped with the kicking. Stiles turned to Baki. "What's going on?"

"Nana says you have to go with her."

"Where?"

"She says you don't need to know."

Stiles started to say that he wasn't following that crazy old wench anywhere, but after one look at her scary face, he thought better of it. "Fine."

When he got downstairs, he saw that no one else was awake except Talia. She was washing leftover dishes from last night and seemed surprised to see him up. She offered to make him breakfast, but Kara said they had to go. She walked into the living room and returned a few moments later with a large satchel. She handed it to Stiles expectantly. He took it, hanging it over one shoulder. Kara went back out to the other room and returned with another tote bag. Stiles took this one too and hung it over the other shoulder.

When she left for a third time and returned with a giant box, he started to get irritated. "What is this?" he demanded, taking it from her. It felt like it had bricks in it.

"Nana needs you to carry some things," Baki told him.

"Yes," Stiles said through gritted teeth. "I sort of figured that out fifty pounds ago."

Kara gave him one more box, stacking it on top of the other. Talia shot him a sympathetic look, shook her head, and returned silently to her dishes, apparently not about to argue with Kara. The old woman set off after that, and Stiles followed obediently, trying to both hold the boxes and not let the bags fall off his shoulders. Baki ran along at his side.

"Do you know where we're going?" he asked the kid.

"No," Baki said cheerfully.

For someone so old, Kara could move at a pretty good pace, and Stiles found himself having to hurry to keep up with her with his load. At one point, she glanced back and said something that Baki translated as, "She's kind of surprised that you can't move faster. Aunt Lia did this every day."

"Yeah, well, I'm kind of surprised that no one else can carry any of this."

"She says if you're really such a famous Vampire slayer, then this shouldn't be a problem."

"Can you at least tell me where the hell are we going?"

Without giving him a backward glance, Kara rattled off something. "Nana says Aunt Lia never would have complained so much," Baki said.

None of this was Baki's fault; he was just the messenger. Yet, every time he spoke, Stiles kind of wanted to kick him. Nonetheless, he kept carrying his burden and didn't say anything else for the rest of the walk. They walked for almost an hour more before reaching a small house, and Stiles was ready to fall over in relief, soaked in sweat. Kara knocked on the door.

A woman answered the door. She was maybe sixty, with a square face and short chocolate hair. She smiled at Kara. Glancing over at Baki and Stiles, the woman quickly stepped aside and gestured them in. Her eyes focused in Stiles and her voice seemed to come from beyond because her mouth never moved.

 _I'm Araya Calavera._ The voice seemed to be in Stiles' head only. _My husband, Severo, is in the garden waiting for you._

"How are you doing this?" he asked.

She smiled. _I'm a Kensho. I can see into your mind and speak to you in there._

Stiles had seen a lot of half-breeds with strange powers but Araya Calavera won the prize. "Alright," he decided. "I'm Stiles. Why is your husband's waiting for me?"

 _Kara sent a note that she'd bring you here. She thinks you might benefit from a chat with Severo._ Araya started unpacking the things he'd carried. The bags were filled with leftovers from the funeral. The top box contained some dishes and pots, while the other one was filled with garden bricks. Araya smiled. _It was very sweet of you to carry these that whole way. Now go. He's waiting._

Stiles glanced at the back door and started to head out but then looked back at Kara. Her expression was... knowing. Almost expectant. Something about it sent a shiver down his back, and he recalled Cora's words: Kara had dreamed of his arrival.

The garden was much bigger than he expected, enclosed in a thick fence and lined with trees. There was a guy sitting on a stone bench. He was tall and stockily built. His eyes were blue and his hair was white. "You must be Stiles," he guessed and Stiles was glad he used his mouth to speak. "I'm Severo Calavera. Now that we know each other, tell me, Stiles. What would you like to know?"

"Wow. You don't waste time."

"I don't see any point in it. You must have lots of questions. I'll do my best to answer." And Severo simply watched Stiles, curiosity all over his face.

"I... Sorry, I actually have no idea what you're talking about. I don't know what I'm here for."

Severo arched an eyebrow. "Kara said... She said you're bonded. She said you carry a _Jinni_."

Stiles blinked in surprise. "I... what?" His head was starting to spin. He had no idea how Kara could've guessed he was bonded or what that _Jinni_ thing meant.

"Alright," said Severo. "Let's start from the beginning. I'm Araya's guardian. Like you, I was put in a situation of life and death where I had to choose between Araya and myself. I opened my mind to her feelings in the belief that she mattered more than me. Most of the time, I still feel that way," he gave a weak smile. "But every action has consequences, Stiles. And when you open yourself like that... You get vulnerable. And while your mind is open... other creatures might try to get hold of it. _Jinni,_ we call them. They are evil spirits who desire another chance in life, even if it is... a sham. A lie. They try to banish you from your own head and—"

"Stop," Stiles said, more confused than ever. He knew exactly what Severo was talking about now, but... how was it possible? "I mean... What? You—you have a—a Trickster too?" Stiles knew it was ridiculous but he was whispering, trying to keep Bob from hearing this. How could Kara have known? And if Severo was telling the truth... was it possible that there were more people out there going through this? That he wasn't alone?

"We've shared the bond for long, long years," the man continued. "And someone else shared the bond with us, every step of the way. My _Jinni_ was... conniving, smart and... just plain evil."

Stiles was hanging on his every word. "Was?"

"He's gone now, yes. Araya and I... we're not bond anymore. All that is gone."

Stiles was too stunned to say anything else. Scott and Stiles had never, ever met another bonded pair. And now he was hearing that it was possible to break the bond?

"It is a choice, like everything else," Severo continued. "You'll see. Your time will come."

"I don't understand," Stiles managed to say. "Kara... How...?"

Severo smiled. "She can sense things... things the rest of us can't. She doesn't always know what she's sensing, however. She only knew there was a strange feel to you, and she'd only ever felt that around one other person. So she brought you to me."

"Seems like she could have done that without me having to carry a household's worth of stuff."

This made Severo laugh. "Don't take it personally. She was testing you. She wanted to see if you're a worthy match for her granddaughter."

"What's the point? She's dead now."

"It's still important to her. And, for the record, she does think you're worthy." Severo turned serious again. "How are you dealing with it? Is it still trying to harm you? Or those around you?"

Stiles hesitated. He'd never thought he'd be talking about Bob like this, so out in the open, so honestly. And most of all, he'd never thought he'd find someone who could understand what he was going through. "Not so much anymore. He's been... almost friendly, I guess. He helps. He always tells me when I'm in danger."

"Yes. They do that sometimes. When they feel threatened. Beware of it, Stiles. He's gathering strength. If he tries to help you, it is only because it helps himself. And when he comes for you... It won't be pretty. Don't ever make the mistake of thinking he's your friend." Severo turned away, staring absentmindedly at a cluster of pink flowers. "I've only met one other guardian bonded to his half-breed. That guardian died and... it ripped the half-breed apart. You have no idea of the kind of damage this sort of thing can..." he stopped himself. "He still helped us when Araya and I were trying to figure things out though."

Stiles braced himself for his own death all the time, and feared for Scott's. Yet it had never occurred to him just what it would be like with a bond. How would it affect the other person? What would it be like to have a gaping hole, where once you'd been intimately linked to someone else?

"Where's your _Arkadaş?_ " Severo asked. "Your bondmate?"

"Back home. I—I left him."

Severo frowned. "Left? As in you simply traveled? Or have you abandoned him?"

Abandoned. The word was like a slap in the face.

"I had things to do," Stiles said evasively.

"I bet. You're _Düzenbaz_."

"Why is that such a big deal? That whole town back there is filled with humans who chose not to protect half-breeds."

"Yes. But that's not what _Düzenbaz_ means. You... and others like you... you still protect them even though you've left. You still guard something. Still fight. You hunt Cold Ones on your own, letting feelings guide you. That is against everything the guardians stand for. That can only lead to trouble. I see it all the time."

"All—all the time?"

"Why do you think guardian numbers are dwindling? They're leaving. Starting families. Or they're going off like you, still fighting but answering to no one. Being controlled by nothing."

"I've never heard of anything like that."

"Of course not. You think the half-breeds and other guardians will tell this to students? They don't want you to know. They don't want you to think you have options."

"No," said Stiles bitterly. "No options whatsoever. I don't see what's so wrong with hunting Vampires. We're always defensive, not offensive."

"There are different ways of going about that, some better than others. And when you're going out like you are... so personal, so uncontrollable... with a heart filled with sorrow and revenge? That's not one of the better ways. It'll make you sloppy. And the _Jinni_ inside of you will just complicate things."

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and stared stonily ahead. "Right. So how do I get rid of it?"

Severo turned to him, face hard. "Like I said, you make a choice. Only this time, you choose yourself over your _Arkadaş_."


	64. The Lethargy

Stiles stared at Severo for several long seconds. Finally, stupidly, he asked, "What?"

"Trust me, I know. It sounds outrageous the first time we're told that we matter as much as the half-breeds. But it's the truth, pure and simple. Without us... They would've lost everything. They'd probably be extinct. It took a lot of years of persuasion from Araya's part to convince me that I could choose my life over hers and it wouldn't make me a bad person. There's nothing wrong with wanting to live. With fighting to survive. We're just humans after all."

"But..." Stiles frowned. "I couldn't do that to—to Scott. I could never do that."

"You have no idea how much I struggled with it too, Stiles. But in the end I had to choose myself in order to win. I closed my mind to Araya. I banished her presence and the _Jinni_ 's. That doesn't change the fact that I love her. That I'd do anything for her. I'm still her guardian and I still protect her. Only now I don't have a demon trying to eat me from the inside out. The bond may seem useful, but it's like any other sickness. And you have to take care of yourself to overcome it. What good would my destruction be to Araya? How could I protect her if I died?"

Stiles' heart was pounding in his chest. What this strange man was suggesting was ridiculously wrong. No, it was just ridiculous, period. There was no way after all that they'd been through that Stiles could put himself above Scott. He just couldn't.

But hadn't he already? When he'd left?

"I know." Severo made an understanding face, like he could read Stiles' mind. "It's not an easy thing. And only those who suffered through it can understand. It requires a lot of what makes you you, and a circle of trust and strength between two people. It took Araya and me a long time to... many hard years..." His face darkened, and Stiles could only imagine what those years had been like. "I was always telling myself I couldn't do this to Araya. That if I truly loved her, I couldn't even consider it. But she—she said sometimes it _is_ okay. Sometimes we can put ourselves first. That I was always first in her heart, why couldn't I, sometimes, be first in my own? Isn't it possible that your _Arkadaş_ feels the same way?"

Stiles thought back to their last meeting. Scott had said: _I understand that you're trying to cope. But you need to find another way, Stiles. To let it go._ Could it be that Scott would let it go of certain things as well? That he wouldn't mind? Stiles had chosen himself when he'd left, yes, but breaking the bond? Wasn't it a step too far?

"I don't know," he said in a small voice.

Severo gave him a long, level look, but didn't push him on the matter. Then Baki stuck his head out the back door. "Nana wants to leave now," he told Stiles. "She wants to know why you're taking so long and said to ask why you'd make someone as old as her keep waiting and suffering with her back."

When he was gone, Stiles shook his head and sighed. "It's hard being worthy."

* * *

His mind was reeling when he returned to the Tate house. Without the bricks, the walk back had been a lot easier. It had given him a chance to ponder Severo's words. Stiles felt like he'd received a lifetime of information in a one-hour conversation. And to top it all out, he was finding the Trickster's silence quite disturbing. Like something was brewing.

Talia was going about the house, doing her normal tasks of cooking and cleaning. "Stiles! Are you hungry?" she asked automatically.

"No, I'm okay. Where is everyone?" The house was unusually quiet.

"Laura and Kali are at work. Cora's out at a friend's, but she'll be glad you're back."

"What about, uh, Jordan?"

"He left a little while ago. He said he was going back to Istanbul."

"What?" Stiles exclaimed. "Left for good? Just like that?" Parrish had a blunt nature, but this was abrupt even for him.

"The Alchemists called him back. He didn't have a choice. He must obey. You understand. Guardians aren't that different." Talia handed him a piece of paper. "He left this for you."

Stiles took the note and immediately opened it. Parrish's handwriting was neat and precise.

 _Stiles,_

 _I'm sorry I had to leave so quickly, but when the Alchemists tell me to jump, I jump. I've hitched a ride back to Istanbul. Apparently, now that you've been delivered to Dallica, they don't need me to stick around anymore._

 _I wish I could tell you more about what Dia wants from you. Even if I was allowed to, I don't know everything. She's as much a mystery to me as she is to you. Nobody ever knows exactly what she's up to. She only gets directly involved with people in very special cases. Like now. Just keep in mind that Yilan can be dangerous and kind, all depending on what she needs._

 _I never thought I'd care enough to say this to a guardian, but... be careful. I don't know what your plans are now, but I have a feeling trouble follows you around. Call me if there's anything I can help with. Really call me if you go back to hunt Vampires; don't leave any more bodies unattended!_

 _Jordan_

 _P.S.: Just because I like you, it doesn't mean I still don't think you're all evil creatures of the night. You are._

His cell phone number was added at the bottom, and Stiles couldn't help but smile. But as he headed to his room, his smile faded. Despite his abrasive attitude, Stiles was going to miss Parrish. He could definitely use a friend. Sitting on the bed, he felt his mood plummet and knew he had to distract himself. He decided to seek peace from that same place he always did: Scott's mind.

He was with Lydia. They both seemed exhausted. Scott let out a groan and stretched out on the carpeted floor. "I want to talk to him," he said.

"You can't," Lydia said. There was an unusual seriousness in her voice. "I know he still checks in on you; that's the closest you'll get to talking to him. And honestly? That's not so bad. You can tell him exactly how you feel."

"Yeah, but I want to hear him talk back like you do in your dreams."

This made Lydia smile. "Oh, Stiles does plenty of talking back, believe me."

Scott sat up straight. "Do it now."

"Do what now?"

"Go visit his dreams. Let me watch."

Lydia stared, at a loss for words. "That's kind of voyeuristic."

"Just do it, okay?"

"I can't just sleep on demand, McCall. So chill. And besides..." she hesitated.

"Besides what?"

She seemed embarrassed. "I don't know. I'm not being able to use my magic properly. It's been a few days. I can't get into anyone's dreams. I feel... so tired."

Scott thought that was weird because he'd been feeling the same way. Was it a virus? He was about to suggest that when Kira and Isaac strolled into the room, looking amused. Scott didn't like that. Kira and Isaac had been spending a lot of time together lately, training.

"How's it going?" asked Lydia. "Think you'll keep this one around?"

Isaac gave Kira a startled look. "What's that mean?"

"Nothing. I've tried to train with a lot of people, after the attack, but they kept bailing on me," Kira explained. "None of them had your power, however, Lahey. So don't worry."

"True," said Lydia. "We've agreed you might be the most powerful half-breed we know. Messing with people's head... that's a tough business."

Isaac turned red as a pepper. "Not really... At least, I don't feel particularly powerful. I think I'm coming down with something. I've been sleeping a whole lot."

"It's that time of year," said Kira. "We're all tired. We've been studying a lot..."

Scott looked at their faces, one by one. Something was wrong with them.

"We agreed to practice in the lounge upstairs," Kira said, "so goodbye."

"You don't have to," said Isaac awkwardly. "We can do it another time if you want to just hang out."

Lydia stood up. "How about if I help you out, Lahey? Let's go upstairs and leave the lovebirds to their lovebirding." She passed an arm around Isaac. "Shall we?"

Isaac looked like he couldn't believe his luck. He followed her gladly. They started to step out the door, just as Theo stepped through it.

"Where are you going, Princess?"

"None of your business, Raeken. I'll deal with you later."

"I certainly hope so," he teased. "I'll leave the door unlocked."

The two left, and Theo sat down next to Scott. Kira wasn't happy about that but kept quiet. Theo seemed animated enough to be drunk, but Scott smelled no liquor on him.

"Man, she's devastatingly beautiful, funny, rich, related to the queen..."

"You got your wedding colors picked out?" asked Scott.

"Not yet," said Theo. "I'm still testing the waters. I figured she'd be an easy notch on the Theo Raeken belt, but she's kind of hard to read."

"I really don't want to be hearing this," Kira said.

"Anyway, I'm not here to talk about her. I'm here to talk about you and me busting out of here, McCall."

"Out of where? The dorm?"

"No. This school. We're going off on a wild weekend to the Royal Court."

"What, this weekend?" Scott felt like he was three steps behind. "Why?"

"You need a reason to have fun? Her royal majesty thought it would be lovely if you could join her for the weekend. And, since I've been hanging out with you, my father decided I'm on good behavior now."

"Poor oblivious bastard," murmured Kira.

Theo ignored her. "So he said I can go with you. You can too, I guess, Yukimura. The queen said Scott could bring a guest; in addition to me, of course."

"I hate going to Court," Scott said. "Natalie just goes on and on, giving what she thinks is useful advice for me. It's always boring and miserable."

"That's because you haven't gone with me yet. It'll be a blast! I know where all the good stuff is. And I bet the princess will come too. She can push her way into anything. It'll be like a double date."

Slowly, Scott began to acknowledge that this might be fun. Until Kira ruined it. "Well, don't count me in," she said. "If you can only bring one person, bring Isaac."

"Lahey?" asked Theo.

Scott looked at Kira in astonishment. "Why on earth would I bring Isaac?"

"He's never been to court. And besides, he's actually serious about learning to defend himself. You should introduce him to Liam. It'll be good for the both of them."

"Right," said Scott knowingly. "And the fact that you hate it at Court has nothing to do with it?"

She blinked. "It has everything to do with it, yes."

Scott was suddenly getting upset. "I need some fun, Kira. Can't you make an effort?"

"I hate the way Queen Bitch looks at me," she shrugged. "And I'm so, so tired, Scott. I need a break."

"But when we graduate, I'll be living there. Will you go then?"

"Yes, of course. So please give me this small vacation first."

Scott's irritation grew. "You want a vacation from me? You already spend the entire day somewhere with Isaac. What else do you need?"

Theo glanced between them and then stood up. "I'll leave you kids to work this out on your own. I don't care whether Kira or Isaac goes, as long as you're there." He peered down at Scott. "You are going, right?"

"Yeah. I'll go." If anything, Kira's refusal had suddenly spurred Scott more. He was now going to prove he could have a good time without her.

Theo grinned and left. As soon as he was gone, Scott turned on Kira. "Are you really serious about me bringing Isaac instead of you?"

"Yep. But I'll count the seconds until you return."

"I can't believe you think this is a joke."

"Scott!" she exclaimed. "Look, I didn't mean to get you all worked up, okay? But really... I just don't want to deal with all that Court drama. And it would be good for Isa—"

"Isaac, yes, I got it."

She frowned. "You don't like him?"

"I... What? Of course I like him."

Kira caught hold of Scott's hands, face serious. "Please, I'm not trying to upset you. If it's really that important..."

Like that, Scott's anger diffused. It was abrupt, like a switch. "No, no. I'm fine bringing Isaac. Just... You're not doing this because you don't like Theo, are you?"

"No, I like Theo. He makes you smile more."

"You make me smile."

"That's why I added on the more, you derp." Kira gently kissed Scott's lips. "You've been so sad since Stiles left. I'm glad you're hanging out with someone else. It's good."

"Theo's not a Stiles replacement," said Scott quickly.

"I know. But he reminds me of him."

"What? They have nothing in common."

"Theo's very much like how Stiles used to be, back before you guys left."

Both Scott and Stiles paused to ponder that. Was she right? Stiles had had his time of craziness and rule breaking. Half the time he was the one coming up with the crazy ideas to find a good time and get them into trouble. But had he been as out there as Theo seemed sometimes?

"But there'll never be another Stiles, right?" said Scott finally.

"No," agreed Kira. "But there will be other friends."

Stiles knew she was right, but couldn't help but feel a small stab of jealousy. Also couldn't help feel a small amount of worry. All of his friends feeling so tired... What could be causing that? And Scott's attitude had been a little douchy and his jealous worry over Isaac was weird too. Some instinct, maybe it was part of the bonding, told Stiles something was wrong. It was a fleeting sensation, one he couldn't quite get a hold of, like water slipping through his fingers. Still, he decided he'd be checking in on Scott more frequently.


	65. The Offer

Being with Scott left Stiles with more questions than answers, and so without a course of action, he simply continued to stay with the Tates for the next few days. He fell into their normal routine and tried hard to make himself useful, doing any chores they'd let him do. Grandma Kara eyed him the whole time, never saying anything but always looking like she disapproved of him. Stiles wasn't sure if she wanted him to go or if that was simply the way she always looked. The other women, however, were delighted to have him around and made it obvious in every action.

This one night, Stiles was hanging by himself in the garden when he saw Cora appeared all dressed up. She stopped dead and blushed when she saw him. "I was supposed to meet someone soon..." she trailed off.

"Ismail?" he teased.

She shook her head, and Stiles tried to hide his disappointment. He'd seen the other boy a few times, and he'd grown more and more likeable. "Just a friend," she said evasively.

"Someone at school?"

"No." She sighed. "And that's the problem. School will start soon and... I'm just going to miss him so much."

Stiles' smile faded. "I can imagine."

"Oh." She looked embarrassed. "That's stupid of me. My problems... well, they're nothing compared to yours. I mean, I may not see him for a while... but I will see him... sometime..." Surprisingly, she gave Stiles a hug. "I know what love's like. To lose that... I don't know. I don't know what to say. All I can tell you is that we're here for you. All of us, okay? You're one of us now."

That stunned and warmed Stiles at the same time. Cora headed out after that. Then Talia appeared through the back door. "Was that Cora I heard leave?" she asked.

"Yeah, she went off to see a friend."

Talia sighed. "I'd wanted her to run an errand for me in town."

"I'll do it," Stiles said eagerly.

She gave him a kind smile. "You have a good heart, Stiles. I can see why Lia loved you."

It was so amazing in his mind how accepted his relationship with Malia was around here. No one brought up the guardian law or any of that. Nobody made him feel bad or guilty. It was fantastic.

He sighed, consumed by that bittersweet ache in his chest that had become so familiar now. What a stupid thing feelings were.

Talia's eyes were on him, sweet and compassionate. "I know," she said, guessing his thoughts. "I know exactly how you feel."

She did know, he guessed. "Does it get easier?" he asked.

Unlike Parrish, Talia had an answer. "Yes. But it'll never go away."

Stiles didn't know whether to take comfort from those words or not. Talia gave him a brief grocery list, and he set off toward downtown, happy to be outside and moving. While in the grocery store, he was surprised to run into Severo Calavera.

"Stiles! I wondered if you were still around."

"Yeah." Stiles held up his basket. "Just doing some shopping for Talia."

"I'm glad you're still here. You seem more... at peace."

"For now. I haven't done much as far as any decision making goes."

"There are many, aren't there?"

"Yes. What to do now. Where to go." Stiles rolled his eyes like it didn't matter.

"Why not stay here?" Severo suggested.

The Trickster answered for him: _Malia, Stiles. Have you forgotten Malia? Have you forgotten how you came here to free her, like she would have wanted?_

 _Is that really what she would have wanted?_ Stiles asked back. _Maybe she would have wanted me to stay safe._

Neither he nor Bob had an answer for that just yet, and with no more help from Erica, his choices were even more muddled.

"Severo!" he almost shouted. Thinking of Erica made hi remember something. "When we talked before... I forgot to ask if... When you had the _Jinni_ , have you ever run into, uh, other ghosts? I mean, outside your body."

Several moments passed, and then Severo exhaled. "I'd hoped that wouldn't happen to you." It astonished Stiles then how much relief he felt to know he wasn't alone in his ghostly experiences. "You must always keep them at bay, Stiles. They're dangerous. They're no different from the _Jinni_. They want to be inside you, to take over. It's as simple at that."

An older woman passed them, a scarf over her head and a basket of vegetables in her arms. Severo waited until she was gone before continuing.

"Look, I have to go, but I'm serious, Stiles. Stay out of trouble. Fight the Cold Ones if they come to you, but don't go seeking them blindly. And definitely leave the ghosts alone."

It was a lot of advice to get in a grocery store, a lot of advice Stiles wasn't sure he could follow, but he thanked Severo anyway and sent his regards to Araya before paying and leaving as well. He was heading back toward Talia's neighborhood when he rounded a corner and nearly walked right into Dia Genim who looked as fancy as Cora.

"So this is why you came to Turkey. To go to the market like some peasant."

"No," he said. "Of course not."

"Just sightseeing then?"

"No. I'm just being helpful, something you clearly don't understand. Stop trying to get information out of me. You're not as smart as you think you are."

"That's not true," she said, full of herself.

"Look, I told you already. I came here to tell the Tates the news. So go back and tell whoever you're working for that that's that."

"And I told you before not to lie to me," she said. Again, Stiles saw that odd mix of danger and humor in her golden eyes. "You have no idea how patient I've been with you. From anyone else, I would have gotten the information I needed that first night."

"Lucky me," Stiles snapped back. "What now? Are you going to take me down an alley and beat me up until I tell you why I'm here? I'm losing interest in this whole scary-mob-boss routine, you know."

"And I'm losing patience with you," she said. "Honestly? I don't care why you're here anymore. You just need to leave. Now."

"Don't threaten me, lady. I'll leave whenever the hell I want. I don't know what you're trying to keep me from, but I'm not scared of you."

 _That isn't entirely true._

 _Shut up, Bob!_

 _That's not my name!_

"You should be," Dia returned pleasantly. "I can be a very good friend or a very bad enemy, Stiles. I can make it worth your while if you leave. We can strike a bargain." There was an almost excited gleam in her eyes as she spoke.

"No," Stiles said. "I'll leave when I'm ready. And there's nothing you or whoever you're working for can do about it."

Hoping he appeared bold, Stiles turned around. She reached out however and grabbed his shoulder, jerking him back, nearly causing him to lose the groceries.

"Your time is up here," she hissed. "In Dallica. In Turkey. Go home. I'll give you what you need: money, first-class tickets, whatever. But you can't stay."

Stiles stepped out of her reach, backing carefully away. "I don't need your help or your money. And I already told you: I'll go back whenever the hell I want."

That chilling smile returned to her face. "Of course. But remember: very good friend or very bad enemy. Get out of Dallica before you find out which."

She turned around and left, much to his relief. Stiles didn't want her to see just how much fear her words had left on his face.

He went to bed early that night, suddenly feeling antisocial. The next day, the Tates took him to this beautiful mosque for the purpose of congregational prayers. Friday was seen as the sacred day of the week, Cora explained to Stiles. Everyone had an opportunity to unite and improve Islamic fraternity. Without having anything better to do, Stiles decided to accompany all of them to the mosque.

It was huge. It could have held four chapels. The ceilings were higher and more elaborate. It was overwhelming, dazzling to the eye. Sweet incense hung heavy in the air, so much so that he could actually see the smoke. Practically the entire town was there although attendance wasn't mandatory. Anyone who didn't want to come, Cora had said, was encouraged to stay home with their family and pray the _Zuhur_ prayer there.

"Dia isn't here," Stiles noted, glancing around. He was starting to wish to not see her again. "Did she leave town?"

"Last I knew, she's still around," said Cora. "Kali saw her this morning."

 _Damn Yilan,_ he thought. She hadn't left. Perhaps she'd stay as long as he did.

Cora gave him a concerned look. "She's never really done anything bad when she's around. She usually has meetings and then disappears. Look, Stiles, I meant it before when I said I didn't think she'd hurt you, but now you're worrying me. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "She just seems interested in me, that's all. I can't figure out why."

Her frown deepened. "We won't let anything happen to you," she said fiercely.

Stiles smiled, both at her concern and because of her resemblance to Malia in that moment. "Thanks. There are some people back home who might be looking for me, and I think that Dia is just... checking up on me."

Cora seemed to sense he was softening the truth. "Well, I mean it. We won't let her hurt you."

When they left the mosque, everyone seemed chatty and they all stood around saying hi to each other. Friends and family hugged and caught up on gossip.

"Cora!" They turned and saw Ismail striding toward them. "Are you still going to Fatimah's party?"

She shook her head. "We can't. We have family plans."

That was news to Stiles and he had a feeling she was lying.

"Really? We're going to miss you."

She shrugged. "We'll all see each other at school."

Ismail didn't seem pacified by that. "Yeah, but—" His eyes suddenly lifted from her face and focused on something behind her. He made a face. Cora and Stiles both glanced back. Three people were strolling toward them. They were humans as well; in fact, Stiles didn't notice anything unusual about them but everyone else seemed troubled. Worried. Uncomfortable.

"I thought you might be here, brother," said one to Ismail.

"I didn't know you were back, Ahmed," replied Ismail stiffly. Studying the two of them, Stiles could actually see a distinct resemblance.

Ismail's brother's gaze fell on Stiles and he brightened. "And you must be the _Düzenbaz_ everyone's been talking about."

"I'm Stiles," he introduced himself. Ahmed seemed to appreciate his confidence and shook his hand.

He gestured to his friends. "These are Ibrahim and Dilara."

"When did you come to town?" asked Ismail, still not looking happy about this reunion.

"Just this morning." Ahmed turned to Cora. "I heard about your sister. My sentiments."

Cora's expression was hard, but she nodded politely.

"Is it true she fell defending half-breeds?"

Stiles didn't like the sneer in Ahmed's voice, but it was Kali who voiced his angry thoughts. She didn't look happy to see Ahmed at all. "She fell fighting Cold Ones."

Ahmed shrugged, unaffected by the angry tone of her voice. "Still makes her dead. And I'm sure the half-breeds will sing her name for years to come. Oh wait... They don't care about who dies for them. Isn't that right?" His gaze fell back on Stiles, his eyes thoughtful as he studied his face for a few seconds. "I heard you were there too. That both of you were sent into an impossible battle."

"It wasn't impossible. We won."

Ahmed frowned. "Really? What was Malia's prize?"

Stiles didn't know what to say to that. Kali crossed her arms over her chest. "If you're only here to start something, then you should leave. Nobody wants you here." Upon meeting her, Stiles had thought she seemed so gentle and kind, but in this moment, she seemed more like Malia than ever. He could see that same strength within her, that fierceness that drove Malia to protect loved ones and stand up to her enemies.

"We're just talking, Kali, relax," said Ahmed. "I just want to understand what happened to your sister. Believe me, _I_ find her death a great tragedy."

"She wouldn't have regretted it," Cora told them. "She died fighting for what she believed in."

"Defending those who enslaved her."

"That's not true," Stiles said.

"Oh?" Ahmed gave him a lopsided smile. "Then why don't you work for the guardians? You've killed Vampires but haven't made your vows, I heard. Why aren't you out there throwing yourself in front of the supremacy?"

"Ahmed," said Ismail uneasily, "just leave."

"I'm not talking to you, brother." Ahmed's eyes were still on Stiles. "I'm just trying to figure this guy out. He kills the Cold Ones but doesn't work for the guardians. He's clearly not like the rest of you soft people in this town. Maybe he's more like us."

"He's nothing like you," Cora snapped back.

 _Oh I see,_ the Trickster said teasingly and a chill ran down Stiles' spine. _These are the true Düzenbaz. The vigilantes who seek out Vampires on their own, the ones who neither settle down nor answer to any guardians. They're definitely something, wouldn't you say?_

 _Not now, Bob._

They shouldn't have unnerved Stiles, he thought. In some ways, in the simplest terms, Stiles really was like them. And yet... there was an air about these guys that just rubbed him the wrong way.

"Then why are you in Turkey?" asked one of Ahmed's friends. Stiles couldn't remember his name. "This is a long trip for you. You wouldn't have come here without a good reason."

Cora was picking up her sister's anger. "He came to tell us about Lia."

Ahmed eyed Stiles. "I think he's here to hunt."

"He wouldn't be in Turkey if he was hunting Vampires, you idiot," returned Cora evenly. "He'd be somewhere cold and dark. Like Russia."

Ahmed continued. "Maybe he's just passing through. Maybe Stiles will want to join us when we go back to Nazilli tomorrow." His eyes gleamed with an intense, feverish light. "Good hunting there. Lots of Vamps. Come with us, and you can help us go after them."

"And how many of you will come back from this?" Kali asked in a hard voice. "Where's Timosha? Where's Vasiliy? Your hunting party keeps getting smaller each time you return here. Which one of you will be next? Whose family will be the next to mourn?"

"Easy for you to talk," retorted the girl, Dilara or something. "You stay here and do nothing while we go out and keep you safe."

Kali gave her a disgusted look. "You go out and rush into situations without thinking. If you want to keep us safe, then stay here and defend your families when they need it. If you want to go after Cold Ones, go join the guardians and work with those who have some sense."

"The guardians don't hunt!" cried Ahmed. "They sit and wait and cower before the half-breeds." He looked back at Stiles. "You still haven't told us why you're here and not with them. But no matter. I can see it in you. You know the only way to rid the world of evil is to do it on our own. To seek out the Vampires ourselves and kill them, one by one."

"Without a plan," finished Kali. "Without any thought of the consequences."

"We're strong and we know how to fight. That's all we need to know when it comes to killing Vampires."

And that was when Stiles understood. He finally got what Severo had been trying to tell him. Ahmed was saying exactly what he had been thinking since he'd left Beacon Hills. He'd run off without a plan, wanting to throw himself into danger because he felt he had a mission that only he could carry out. Only _he_ could kill Malia. Only _he_ could destroy the evil within her. He'd been giving no thought to how he'd pull it off, seeing as Malia had beat him more often than not in fights when she was still a human. With a Vampire's strength and speed now? The odds were definitely against him. Still, he hadn't cared. He'd been obsessed, convinced he had to do this.

In his own head, what he had to do made sense, but now... hearing those sentiments from Ahmed, it sounded crazy. Just as reckless as Severo had warned. The motives might be good but they were also suicidal. Without Malia, Stiles honestly hadn't cared much about his own life. He'd never been afraid to risk it before, but now he realized there was a big difference between dying uselessly and dying for a reason. If he died trying to kill Malia because he had no strategy, then his life would have meant nothing.

"Enough," said Kali harshly. "You need to go, Ahmed. Now."

Ahmed's body relaxed and he kept his eyes on Stiles. "You're wasting your time," he told him. "With them. With this place. You should come with us to Nazilli."

Stiles pointed down the street. "You were asked to leave. So leave."

After several tense moments, the group retreated. Before turning around, however, Ahmed gave him one last piercing look. "This isn't what you want and you know it. When you change your mind, come find us at 83 Abdullah. We leave at sunrise tomorrow."

"You'll be leaving without me," Stiles declared.


	66. The Yilan

The encounter with Ahmed left Stiles even more confused than before. It was a shocking illustration of Severo Calavera's warning, an omen of what he too might become if he wasn't careful. But Stiles wasn't aimlessly seeking danger, was he? He was seeking danger... well, for a reason. Wasn't he?

Later that evening, as the family was settling down in the living room after way too much food, Cora glibly asked Talia if she could go to Fatimah's house party.

 _It looks like everyone's keeping secrets around here,_ the Trickster commented.

Stiles glanced between their faces, curious as to how this would play out. Grandma Kara was knitting and didn't look up. Talia's face turned thoughtful.

"You have to leave early tomorrow to go back to school."

"I know. But I can sleep on the bus. Everyone else will be at Fatimah's tonight."

" _'Everyone else'_ isn't a convincing argument," scoffed Talia.

"But _'everyone else'_ will be tired tomorrow too," replied Cora, grinning. "I'll be back by two."

"Absolutely not. You'll be back by midnight."

Cora wasn't happy about the curfew, but she apparently decided to take what she could get. Stiles followed her out of the room.

"Okay," he said once they were heading upstairs, "what gives? I thought you weren't going to Fatimah's."

Cora rolled her eyes. "I'm not. Fatimah's a bitch." She walked inside her bedroom and closed the door on his face. He waited. Five minutes later, she came out wearing a short, sleeveless red dress with lace around the straps. The fabric was stretchy; the kind that showed everything.

"Jesus," he breathed out. "Is this a joke?"

"Nope." She walked into the bathroom to put on red lipstick.

"Okay," Stiles said, catching on at last. "What's his name then?"

"Rasim," she said promptly. "Oh, Stiles. He's amazing. And this is the last night I'll get to see him before school."

"You must, uh, really like him," he observed awkwardly still shocked at her choice of clothes.

Her eyes widened. "Do you want to meet him?"

"Er, well, I don't want to interfere with your date..."

"You won't. Just stop by and say hi, okay? It won't be a problem."

It felt pretty intrusive, yet at the same time... Stiles was kind of curious about a guy who could get Cora to leave the house late at night in that kind of outfit. He guessed someone had to keep an eye on that girl, for sure. So he agreed to meet Rasim, and they left the house as quietly as they could.

They headed downtown, following a few twists and turns until they ended up behind what looked like an ordinary warehouse in an abandoned part of town. All was quiet, but a tall, tough-looking guy stood by a door leading into the building, his arms crossed in front of him. Cora said they had to wait there.

A minute later, her face lit up. "There he is!" She pointed to an approaching guy. He was very tall and flamboyant, his hair full of hairspray, his clothes colorful and glittery and... was he wearing eyeliner?

Cora gave Rasim a fierce hug and introduced him to Stiles. Rasim took a hold of Cora's hands and brought them to his lips, kissing each one. His green, green eyes gazed at hers, and he murmured something Stiles couldn't hear. She blushed and replied in Turkish.

Still smiling, Rasim glanced over at Stiles. "You're new here, aren't you?" he asked.

Cora wrapped her arms around him like she feared he would disappear if she let go of him. "Stiles is visiting. He was supposed to be my brother-in-law."

"Ah," he said. "I remember hearing about you. The Vampire Slayer." He looked back down at Cora and pressed a kiss to her hair, running his fingers along her throat. His next words were to her. "I'm glad you were able to come here before you left. I don't know how I'll get by with you so far away."

She beamed. "There was no way I could leave without seeing you one more time..." She trailed off, too overcome with emotion, and as he leaned down, hand still on her throat, Stiles thought for an awful moment that they were going to start making out then and there.

Fortunately, the appearance of an approaching girl interrupted them. Cora broke from Rasim and embraced the other girl. They apparently hadn't seen each other in a while and chatted rapidly in Turkish, ignoring the boys.

Free of her for a moment, Rasim leaned toward Stiles. "Once Cora has returned to school, you'll be all alone here. Maybe I could show you around then?"

Stiles frowned. That sounded strangely like... flirting? "Thanks," he said carefully, "but I've already seen everything."

The guy kept that big smile on. "Of course. Well, then, perhaps we could simply get together and... talk?" and he put a hand on Stiles' left shoulder to make his intentions clear.

Stiles couldn't believe it. This guy had had his hands all over Cora thirty seconds ago and was now trying to score plans with another guy? The whole thing would be comical if it weren't so disrespectful.

"Sorry, but I don't think I'll be around long enough." Stiles got the impression that people didn't refuse this guy very often. He frowned and started to protest, but Cora returned and wrapped herself around him again. Rasim studied Stiles for several more puzzled seconds and then shifted his attention to her, smiling and turning on the charm. Stiles felt that disgust roil up in him again.

Then they wanted to go inside and do God only knew what.

"Cora," Stiles said, trying to be reasonable, "are you sure you don't want to come back home and hang out? I mean, I won't get to see you tomorrow."

She hesitated, then shook her head. "I won't get to see Rasim either. But I promise I'll come see you as soon as I get home later. We'll stay up all night. Mom won't care."

Stiles didn't know what else to say. Rasim's impatience, now that Stiles had refused him, was starting to show. He wanted to go inside. Stiles watched them go with a heavy heart. Confused, he turned away to head back home... and almost walked into Dia Genim. Again.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed. She wore a fancy black dress tonight and the green scarf. "Are you stalking me?"

Dia gave him that annoying knowing smile of her. "I see your friend is off to an interesting night. I had no idea Cora Tate had such lovely legs. Now everyone knows, thanks to that dress. It is such a shame. Every girl makes the same mistake because of a boy. A boy that will choose himself over her in the end."

Stiles clenched his fists. "Don't talk about her like that. You don't know her."

" _You_ don't know her, Stiles. She's not your family. And, besides, I'm not saying anything that isn't obvious to everybody else. It'll certainly be obvious to young Rasim soon. You know, these girls all swear it won't happen to them. But it always does. That is why I, when the choice was upon me, choose myself over men. And so did Malia, I heard, isn't that right? For a little while at least."

"You don't know—"

"Listen to me, Stiles," she said forcefully. "Do not stay here. You have a future ahead of you. A career. Do not throw it away because of a girl. If you stay, you'll waste your life away, running errands for Talia Tate."

"They're good people," Stiles growled. "Don't mock them."

"I'm not denying that. They are good people. But they aren't _your_ people. This is a fantasy. You're deluding yourself." She was all sternness now. "Your grief has sent you here. The girl was ripped away from you, and you've ripped yourself away from your old friends. You're trying to make up for it by convincing yourself that you should be here, that this is your family, that this is your home. They aren't. This isn't."

"I could make this my home." That wasn't exactly what Stiles wanted, but his stubborn nature made him want to contradict her.

"You aren't meant for Dallica," she said, gold eyes blazing. "You're meant for better things. You need to go back home, back to your school and the McCall prince."

Stiles blinked, amazed by her words. _You're meant for better things..._ Who was she to tell him that? A strange woman he'd just met? And Scott...? How could she know about him?

"When are you going to tell me who you work for?" he asked. "What do you want with me?"

"I'm merely an observer who can tell you're wasting your time here. This is no life for you, Stiles. They say you were on track to be a great guardian. Do you know what an honor it is to be assigned to the last McCall? You could spend your life in elite, powerful circles. The reputation you've already gained will raise you in status and regard. You have a stunning career ahead of you, and it's not too late to go back to it. Not yet."

It sounded like she had made that speech before, like the words had been rehearsed inside her head for years and years. Who was she trying to convince, Stiles wondered?

"You can't tell me how to live my life. They call you _Yilan_. You're trying to trick me."

She shook her hair. "No. They call me that because like Eve I chose my own life, what I wanted above what others considered the better choice. And like Eve I've faced the consequences by myself too. That is a lesson you'd do well to learn. Put yourself first. Abandon this path and go back home."

Her words were urgent and authoritative, and Stiles couldn't believe she had the audacity to talk to him like that. Like she'd known him forever. Like they were friends. Like they were familiar. One thing was for Severo Calavera to give him advice, since he knew what Stiles was going through, but Dia Genim...?

"That's not my life anymore," he said icily.

"What, and this is? You're going to spend the rest of your life chasing after a dead girl? Or will you stay here and take care of her family?" She scoffed. "That girl," she pointed to where Cora had gone. "That girl is about to choose a man over herself. Life is like that. Even if you aren't used by someone like Rasim Kislyak, and believe me, he will use her, just like he did her sister, you still end up alone with a baby you're way too young for."

"Her... wait." Stiles froze. His head was spinning. "Are you saying he's Baki's dad? Why would Cora be involved with him after he did that and left her sister?"

"Because she doesn't know. Laura Tate doesn't talk about it, and Mr. Kislyak thinks it's a game, getting two sisters into bed. Too bad for him that Kali's smarter than the others or he could have had them all. Who knows?" She gave him a sardonic smile. "Maybe he'll consider you part of the family enough to go after you next. Rasim doesn't discriminate when the subject is sex."

Stiles crossed his arms not wanting to let her win the argument. "So is that what happened to you? Someone used you and then left?"

Dia's sternness gave way to momentary amusement. "Everyone thinks their first love is the only one they'll ever have." She touched the green scarf. "I may be able to vouch for that. Sometimes is true. Sometimes you don't forget. If you're anything like me... Your suffering might be just starting."

She was really pissing him off now. Stiles backed up a little, toward the building. "I'm not going to play your game here. And you can tell whoever you're working for that I'm not playing theirs either and that I'm not going back." He backed up further. "I'm leaving, and you can't stop me. And don't spy on me anymore. This ends now."

Dia studied him for several seconds, her gold eyes narrowed thoughtfully. At last she said, so quietly he could hardly hear her, "It won't end with them, though. Cora and Rasim. She thinks she's in love with him. He knows she'll be back in school tomorrow. Tonight's his last chance with her, and he won't waste it. There are lots of bedrooms in there. They're probably in one right now."

Stiles tried to control his breathing. "Then I'll go tell her mother."

"It'll be too late. She'd never find them in time, and tomorrow, Cora will be on her way to school and he'll have no interest anymore. What can her mother do after she's pregnant? Ground her?"

"Fine. Then I'll drag her off myself."

"That'll never happen. They won't let you in. And besides, she won't listen. She wants to do this. She won't leave with you. Even if she did, she'd just find him again."

Stiles eyed her. "You obviously have a plan."

Dia smiled. "If you want to save her, you've got to go through him. Through Rasim."

Stiles scoffed. "Not likely. The only way he'd leave her alone is if I offered to take her place. And hey, friendships only go so far."

"Not if I talk to him."

"What are you going to do, give him a talk on morality and sway him with reason?"

"Oh, I'll sway him, alright. But believe me, I won't do it with reason... If I tell him to leave her alone, he'll leave her alone. For good."

Stiles stepped backward without realizing it and hit the wall. Dia looked scary as hell. _Yilan.._. Stiles didn't doubt her words at all.

"Why would you do that for me?"

"An exchange. And a sign of good faith. Promise to leave Dallica, and I'll deal with Rasim."

"That's your tactic now? You're offering me a trade? My leaving isn't really worth you scaring some asshole."

"Isn't it, Stiles?"

Frantically, he thought about what to do. Some part of him thought Cora was free to make her own choices, to love whom she wanted... but he knew for a fact that Rasim didn't love her. He couldn't let her turn down a road that could ruin the rest of her life. He couldn't let that happen to Malia's sister.

 _Malia_...

She would never let anything happen to those she cared about.

"I'll leave Dallica," he promised at last.

Dia walked inside that club. She came out exactly three minutes later. "It's done," she proclaimed.


	67. The Promises

"Just like that?" Stiles asked in disbelief.

Her lips quirked into a smile. "Rasim knows who I am. He knows who works for me. Once I made my... ah, wishes known, that was the end of it."

Stiles shivered, knowing she spoke the truth. "So why aren't you forcefully dragging me out of here?"

"I never like to make anyone do anything they don't want to. Even Rasim. It's much easier if people simply see reason and do what I ask them to, without the use of force. I make trades. Deals. That's all, Stiles. Don't forget your end of the bargain. You promised to leave here, and you don't seem like the type to go back on your word."

"I don't."

"Stiles!" Cora suddenly appeared at the door. Her hair was mussed, and a dress strap was slipping from her shoulder. Her face was a mixture of incredulity and anger. "What did you do? This woman came and told Rasim to get out of here and never see me again! And then... Rasim agreed. He just left!"

Stiles found it slightly funny that Cora immediately blamed him for this. True, he was responsible, but Dia was standing right there.

"He was using you," he said.

There were tears in Cora's brown eyes. "He loves me."

"If he loves you, then why did he hit on me as soon as your back was turned?"

"He did not!"

"He's the one who got Laura pregnant."

Even in the alley's dim lighting, Stiles saw her face pale. "That's a lie."

"Why would I make that up? He wanted to make plans with me as soon as you were out of town!"

"He's not gay," she said, voice shaking, "and neither are you."

"Yes, I know that."

Dia listened quietly, a smug look on her face. She was so self-satisfied Stiles wanted to punch her.

"I thought you were my friend," Cora continued. "But if you were... If you cared just a little about us, you wouldn't try to stand in my way. You act like you loved my sister, but there's no way you could have, no way you really understand love!"

Stiles felt something boiling inside of him. His emotions surged, that darkness welling up within him that made him want to lash out in return for her horrible accusation. It was only through the strongest of efforts that he remembered she was already hurting, that she only said the things she did because she was confused and upset.

"Cora, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm only doing this because I care."

"You don't," she hissed. "You aren't part of this family. You don't understand anything about us or how we live! I wish you'd never come here." She turned and stormed away, pushing back inside through the long line of partygoers.

Stiles turned to Dia. "She's going to go try to find him."

Dia still wore that damnably knowing expression. "It won't matter. He'll have nothing to do with her anymore. Not if he values that pretty face of his."

"Fine. Then we're done here. Do not follow me anymore," Stiles growled.

"Keep your promise to leave Dallica, and I won't have to."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "I told you: I always keep my promises."

And as he hurried back to the Tate house, Stiles suddenly wondered if that was true. The blowout with Dia and Cora was like cold water on his face. What was he doing here? He had been deluding himself, pretending Malia's family was his own in order to soothe his grief over her. But they weren't. This wasn't home. The only thing he had left was his promise to Malia. The promise he'd somehow lost sight of since coming here.

Stiles knocked gently on Cora's bedroom door. "Please talk to me," he asked in a gentle whisper.

"No!" came the response. "I don't ever want to talk to you again."

"Cora—"

"Go away!"

"I'm just worried about you."

"You aren't my brother! You have no place here!"

 _Ouch,_ laughed the Trickster. _How many time you have to hear the same thing until you decide to listen?_

Going to his room, Stiles made a decision. Dallica wasn't his place. In a flash, his belongings were packed. Taking a deep breath, he headed downstairs and walked out the front door. He needed to go, he realized. This wasn't his world. He had other things to do with his life. And he had a lot of promises to keep.

When he was about eight blocks away, he slowed down, not because he was tired but because he wasn't sure where he was going. Leaving that house had been the biggest step. He sank down on the curb in front of a neighbor's silent, dark yard. He wanted to cry without knowing why. He wanted his old life back. He wanted Malia and Scott. Sitting there, feeling lost and alone, he tried reaching out to the one he still could find.

Scott was on a private jet. Isaac stared at everything wide-eyed and barely said a word during the whole flight to the Royal Court. When Theo offered him a glass of champagne, Isaac could barely stammer a response. After that, the others seemed to forget about him and got carried away by their own conversation. Scott noticed Isaac's uneasiness but didn't do much to remedy it. That was a shock. The Scott Stiles had known would have gone out of his way to make Isaac comfortable and included.

Theo's father had decided it would be a good idea for Jennifer Blake to go with them. Scott still found her as unpleasant as she'd been the first day they met. She wasn't really mean or anything, but she could make everyone uncomfortable with a single look. Really, she was the polar opposite of Theo, who could make everyone feel good.

When the flight landed, Liam was there to receive them as Scott had asked in a letter. He waved enthusiastically when Scott stepped off the plane. Scott grinned back, and they gave each other quick half-hugs. Scott then made introductions for those who needed them, and Liam welcomed Isaac very well.

"And where's Stiles?"

Silence fell, followed by uncomfortable glances.

"What?" demanded Liam. "What did I say?"

"Stiles is gone," said Scott. "Sorry... I thought you knew. He dropped out and left after the attack because there were some things... some personal things... he needed to take care of."

Scott feared Liam would ask about the personal things, but Liam's next question was completely shocking. "Why didn't you go with him?"

"What?" Scott stammered. "Why would I do that? Stiles dropped out. No way am I going to do the same."

Liam frowned. "But... You guys are just so close... even without the bond. I assumed you'd follow each other to the ends of the earth and figure out the details later."

"Yeah, well, if we were so close, then it seems like he wouldn't have left in the first place. He's the selfish one, not me."

The words clearly shocked Liam and he simply held up his hands in an apologetic way. "Sorry. Wasn't trying to accuse you of anything."

Scott said nothing else. The group silently headed inside. Lydia, however, pulled Scott back.

"I know what you're thinking."

"What, you read minds now?" he asked.

"Don't have to. It's written all over your face. And Stiles never would have let you go with him, so stop agonizing over it."

They entered the royal guest housing. "You don't know that. I could have talked him into it. It would've been the right thing to do."

"No," said Lydia sharply. "You couldn't have. I'm serious, Scott. Don't give yourself one more thing to be depressed about."

"Hey, who said I'm depressed? Like I said, he abandoned me."

Lydia gave him a weird look. "I thought you understood," she said, with a small, puzzled frown. "I thought you said you'd—"

Theo suddenly interrupted, giving Lydia a sharp look. "Hey, hey. Leave him alone, okay? We'll see you at the reception, Princess."

They were at a point where the groups had to split, girls going to one part of the lodging and guys to the other. Lydia looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she nodded and headed off with Jennifer Blake.

"You okay?" Theo's normally laughing face was filled with concern.

"I guess. I don't know. I'm tired."

"Don't beat yourself up over what you could have or should have done. The past is gone. Move on to the future."

Scott's heart was still heavy, but he managed a tight smile. "I think that's the wisest thing you've ever said."

"I know! Can you believe it? Do you think it'll impress the princess?"

They dissolved into laughter but Scott's mood didn't improve as the evening progressed. Not long after the group's arrival, the queen hosted a small reception for the most elite of all visitors who had come to the Court. She was now happy that Scott had a 'suitable' royal friend.

"Before you leave," Natalie told Scott when she managed to be alone with him, "we should see about your guardians."

Scott had been staring vacantly at the bubbles in his untouched champagne and looked up with a start. "Guardians, your majesty?"

"Well, there's no delicate way to put this, but now, for better or for worse, you're without any protection." The queen paused respectfully. "Tate had very good potential."

"I don't need any protection right now," said Scott politely.

"No, but you'll be out of school soon enough. We think we've found some excellent candidates for you."

"Guardian Stilinski offered to be my guardian," said Scott suddenly.

"Guardian... Stilinski?" Natalie's eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline. "I'm sure he has other commitments. No, we've got much better choices."

Scott put on a tight, polite smile for the queen and thanked her for the consideration. Then, as soon as courtesy allowed, he excused himself from the queen and headed across the room, feeling like he was going to explode with grief and anger. He nearly ran into Theo as he did.

"God," said Theo. "What's wrong? You look awful."

"I need to get out of here." Scott took a deep, calming breath. "Remember all that good stuff you said you knew about? When is that going to happen?"

Theo smiled. "As soon as you want."

Stiles returned to himself, sitting there on the curb. Footsteps on the pavement made him look up. Of all the people who might have found him, he hadn't expected Grandma Kara. But the old woman stood there, a shawl draped over her narrow shoulders, and her sharp, cunning eyes looking down at him disapprovingly.

"You can't stay here any longer," she said.

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "All this time... you've been pretending? You've been making Baki play translator...?"

"It's easier," she said simply. "You avoid a lot of annoying conversation when you don't speak the language."

Stiles was still aghast. "You don't even know me! But from the first day, you've been giving me hell. Why? Why do you hate me?"

She seemed surprised. "I don't hate you. But I am disappointed."

"Disappointed? How?"

"I dreamed you would come."

"I heard that. You dream a lot?"

"Sometimes," she said. The moonlight glinted in her eyes, enhancing her otherworldly appearance. "Sometimes my dreams are true. Sometimes not. I dreamed Lia was dead, but I didn't want to believe it, not until I had proof. You were my proof."

"And that's why you were disappointed?"

Kara drew the shawl more tightly around her. "No. In my dreams, you shone. You burned like a star, and I saw you as a warrior, someone who could do great deeds. Instead? You've sat around and moped. You've done nothing. You haven't done what you came to do."

Stiles studied her, wondering if she really knew what she was talking about. Could it be? "And what is that exactly?"

"You know what it is. I dreamed that, too. You've come to search for Lia. You must find her."

Stiles didn't want to believe her, didn't want to believe she might actually know the future. Nonetheless, he found himself getting hooked in. "Have you seen what happens? Do I find her?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Oh. Fantastic."

"But you must find her. So you can tell her..." Kara hesitated. "That it's okay. That it doesn't change anything."

Stiles shivered. He had no idea what she meant. Most of it sounded crazy. But some of it... He looked into those deep eyes and nodded. "Fine. I'm leaving then." And like that, he knew where he would go. "Tell the others... well, tell them thank you for everything. And that I'm sorry."

"You're doing the right thing," Kara told him. "This isn't where you should be. You should be with her."

Those words filled him with strength. No one had ever told him that or anything like it. No one had ever said it aloud or given him permission. But there it was: he should be with Malia. And it was everything he'd ever wanted to hear. Now he knew he hadn't imagined that fate for them. And even if it couldn't be, even if Malia had to die, he'd still be there with her, until the very last second.

Stiles knew where to go now. The address had never left his mind: 83 Abdullah. When he reached the house, he was glad to see that the lights were still on.

Ahmed opened the door. His expression was all astonishment when he saw Stiles. Despite his bold words back at the mosque earlier, he hadn't truly expected Stiles to come. He was speechless.

"I changed my mind. I'm coming with you." Stiles took a deep breath, bracing himself for what came next. He'd promised Dia he'd leave Dallica, but he hadn't promised to return home. "Take me to Nazilli."


	68. The Careless Ones

Ahmed and his two friends, Ibrahim and Dilara, were ecstatic that Stiles was going to be part of their posse. But it didn't take long before they realized that Stiles was approaching the hunt very differently than they were.

Ibrahim had a car, and they all took turns driving to Nazilli. They regaled Stiles with tales of their own adventures. To be fair, they'd slain several Vampires, but they'd lost a number of their friends. Stiles' initial thought was to immediately ditch this group and strike out on his own. But he could use their backup. Plus, since he didn't actually know where Malia was yet, he had to come up with a method of getting some information. He'd need help for that.

When their first night of hunting came around, Stiles finally stepped up into a leadership position. The sudden change in behavior startled them at first, but they soon listened with rapt attention.

"Okay," he said, looking from face to face. "Here's how it's going to work. We're going to hit the nightclub scene as a group, patrolling it and the alleys behind it for—"

"Wait," interrupted Ahmed. "We usually split up to cover more ground."

"Which is why you get killed," Stiles snapped. "We're going as a group."

"Haven't you killed Vampires by yourself, though?" asked Dilara.

"Yes, but I got lucky. We'll do better with all five of us. When we find them, we've got to make sure we take care of them in an isolated place. But before we kill them, I need to talk to them. It'll be your job to restrain them."

"Why?" asked Ahmed. "What do you have to say to them?"

"Actually, it's what they have to say to me. Look, it won't take long. And you'll get to make your kill in the end, so don't worry about it. But..." This next part went against his grand plans, but Stiles knew he had to say it. "If we get ourselves in a situation where you're trapped or in immediate danger, forget the talking and restraining. Kill. Save yourself."

Apparently, he seemed confident and badass enough that they decided to go along with whatever he said. Setting out around midnight, Ahmed led them to a club where they'd found Vampires before. It was also apparently where one of their friends had been killed. The place was crowded and dark, with flashing lights. Disturbingly, what started to bother Stiles first was the smell. That many people generated a lot of sweat.

They moved to the dance floor and Ibrahim started to leave to get a drink so Stiles punched him in the arm. He exclaimed something in Turkish. "What was that for?" he asked.

"For being stupid," said Stiles. "How do you expect to kill something that's twice as fast as you while drunk?"

The boy shrugged, unconcerned. "One won't hurt. Besides, there aren't even any—"

"Be quiet!"

It was creeping over Stiles, that weird stirring in his stomach that usually meant the Trickster had found something. Stiles scanned the crowd for the source. _What is it, Bob? Where?_ he asked mentally.

 _That isn't my name._

Stiles could feel him rolling his eyes _. Yeah, but where?_

 _Toward the bar, you ungrateful boy,_ he answered happily. Stiles moved that way and the feeling increased _. There._

A male Vampire was standing off in a corner, his arm around a girl. He was probably using compulsion on her, judging from the smile on her face. Stiles saw the Vampire lead the girl down a small, unnoticed hallway. At the end, he could just make out a glowing exit sign.

"Any idea where that door goes?" Stiles asked the others.

No one knew.

"There's a small alley out back where they keep trash," Dilara answered. "It's between this building and a factory. No one's usually there."

"Can we get to it by going around the club?"

"Yes. It's open on both sides."

"Perfect."

They hurried out of the club by the front door, and Stiles divided the group into two. The plan was to come at the Vampire from both sides and trap him in the middle. Once the group had split off and peered around behind the club, Stiles saw the Vampire and the girl lurking in the shadow of a trash can. He was leaning over her, mouth near her neck, and Stiles silently swore.

They didn't waste any time. Hoping she was still alive, Stiles came charging down the alley, Dilara on his heels. From the alley's other side, Ahmed and Ibrahim also came running. As soon as he heard the first footfall, the Vampire reacted instantly, his staggeringly fast reflexes kicking in. He immediately dropped the girl, and in the space of a heartbeat, he chose Ahmed and Ibrahim over Dilara and Stiles.

A powerful hit sent Ibrahim flying. The Vampire pounced on Ahmed next, but he proved remarkably fast. Ahmed dodged the blow and struck out low, aiming for the Vampire's legs. The hit landed, though it wasn't strong enough to knock him over. A flash of silver showed in Ahmed's hands, and he managed to partially swipe the Vampire's cheek just before a backhanded slap knocked the guy into Stiles. The cut hurt the Vampire and Stiles heard him snarl. His fangs gleamed with saliva.

Stiles sidestepped Ahmed quickly enough that he didn't knock him over. Dilara grabbed his arm, holding him so that he wouldn't fall either. She was fast too and had barely steadied him before leaping up at the Vampire. He swatted her away but didn't manage to hit her hard enough to push her far.

Stiles and Ibrahim were on him by that point, their combined force knocking him against the wall. Still, he was stronger and the pinning was brief before he broke free. As one, Ibrahim and Stiles leapt out again. Then Dilara threw herself against the Vampire, landing a swift kick to the stomach as well. Stiles could feel the Vampire starting to shake them off, but then Ahmed joined in too. Between the four of them, they wrestled the Vampire down so that he lay back-first on the pavement.

But the worst wasn't over. Keeping him down wasn't easy. He thrashed around with incredible strength, limbs twisting everywhere. Stiles heaved himself up, trying to throw his body's weight across his torso while the others restrained his legs. Shifting forward, Stiles placed the point of his stake at his neck. It gave him pause.

Stiles leaned over his face. "Do you know Malia Tate?"

The Vampire shouted something incomprehensible. Stiles pressed the stake in harder and drew a long gash against his throat. He screamed in pain. A moment later, Ahmed repeated the question in Turkish. The Vampire growled something and Ahmed shook his head. "He says he isn't going to play games with us."

Stiles took the stake and slashed at the Vampire's face, widening the gash Ahmed had made earlier. Again, the Cold One cried out and Stiles gave him a smile filled with enough malice to match his own.

"Tell him we're going to keep playing games with him until he talks. One way or another, he dies tonight. It's up to him whether it happens slowly or quickly."

Stiles honestly couldn't believe those words had come out of his mouth. They were so harsh... so, well, cruel. He'd never in his entire life expected to be torturing anyone, even a Vampire.

Finally, he shot off a string of words that didn't sound like his usual insults. Ahmed immediately translated. "He said he's never heard of anyone named that and that if Malia's a friend of yours, he'll be sure to kill her."

Stiles almost smiled at the Vampire's last effort at defiance. "He's useless then," he declared standing up. "Go ahead and kill him."

It was what Ahmed had been dying to do. He didn't hesitate, his stake striking hard and swift through the Vampire's heart.

"Stiles," asked Dilara at last. "What are you hoping to—"

"Never mind that," he interrupted, moving over to the unconscious human girl's side. Kneeling down, he examined her neck. He'd bitten her, but not much blood had been taken. Stiles asked to borrow Ahmed's cell phone and dialed Parrish's number.

He sounded sleepy. "Stiles? What's going on?"

"Are you back in Istanbul?"

"Yes... where are you?"

"Nazilli. Do you guys have agents here?"

"Of course," he said warily. "Why?"

"Mmm... I've got something for you to clean up."

"Oh man."

"Hey, at least I'm calling."

"Yes. Where are you?"

Stiles explained the location and told Parrish about the girl.

"What should we do?"

"Leave her," said Parrish. "The guy who's coming will make sure she's okay and doesn't go telling stories. He'll explain it when he gets there."

"I appreciate the help, Jordan, but I'm not going to be here when he arrives."

"Stiles—"

"I'm out of here," Stiles told him. "And I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else that I called... say, like, Dia."

"Stiles—"

"Please, Jordan? Just don't tell. Or else... If you do, I'll stop calling when this happens. There'll be dead Vampires all over town."

"Stiles—" he tried yet again.

"Thanks, man. We'll be in touch." Stiles disconnected and handed Ahmed the phone. "Come on, guys. We're not done tonight."

It was clear they thought Stiles was crazy to be interrogating Vampires, but considering how reckless they were sometimes, his behavior wasn't quite weird enough for them to lose their faith. Stiles' uncanny ability to 'sense' Vampires made him even cooler in their eyes.

They caught two more that night and managed to repeat the procedure. The results were the same. Lots of insults. No new information. Stiles found himself growing weary both mentally and physically. He told the group they were going to go home... and then, while cutting around the back of a factory, the Trickster pointed a fourth Vampire. They jumped him and eventually managed to pin him as they had the others.

"I'm going to rip your throat out!" the Vampire snarled.

"Look," Stiles said growing impatient and tired, "just tell us what we need to know. We're looking for a girl named Malia Tate."

"Yes," the Vampire's voice was smug, "but she ain't a girl anymore."

Stiles hadn't even realized he'd called her that. In a split second, a thousand thoughts raced through Stiles' head. _Holy crap._ The thought that he might be close to something here was staggering.

"You've seen her?"

"No one sees her much. We bring her all sort of pathetic humans to tease her appetite."

Stiles' stomach twisted. _Don't think about Malia eating people. Don't think about Malia eating people._ He said the words over and over in his head, forcing himself to stay calm.

"I've got a message for her. Tell her Stiles is looking for her."

"I'm not your errand boy," he said, glowering.

Stiles stake slashed out, drawing blood, and he grimaced in pain. "You're anything I want you to be. Now go tell Malia Stiles is looking for her."

Ahmed watched him expectantly, stake poised and ready. "Wait. Won't we kill him now?"

Stiles shook his head. "No. Now we let him go."

Convincing them to release a Vampire wasn't easy. They exchanged uneasy glances with one another, and Stiles wondered if they'd disobey. In the end, his harshness and authority won out. They wanted him as their leader and put their faith in his actions, no matter how insane they seemed. The Vampire gave them one last menacing look as he disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

When he finally hit the bed, Stiles decided to check up on Scott once more. The rest of Scott's visit to the Royal Court had been a series of other functions and formal parties. The more he listened to royal half-bloods talk business, the more it irritated him. He saw the same abuses of power he'd noted before, the same unfair way of distributing guardians like they were property. Most of the people Scott ran into at Court were of the old-school mentality: let guardians fight and half-breeds stay protected.

Scott welcomed his escapes from these events whenever he could, anxious to run wild with Theo. Theo was always able to find people to hang out with and attend parties of a much different nature than Natalie's.

"Watch it," warned Theo one evening. There were drinks and food in full force and Theo pointed at Scott's martini. "Are you keeping track of how many of those you're taking down?"

"Not from what I can tell," said Lydia. She was sprawled on a lounge chair nearby, a drink in her own hand.

"I'm fine," lied Scott, who was watching his surroundings spin a little.

Theo's lips quirked into a smile. "Hey, Lahey's here."

Liam, with Isaac in tow, came striding through the garden, indifferent to the shocked looks he received. "Hey," he said. "My dad just got called away, and I have to go with him. So I wanted to bring Isaac back."

"No problem," said Scott automatically, though he clearly wasn't happy about Isaac being there. He still kept wondering if Kira had some special interest in him. "You guys trained a lot?"

"You have no idea. We're exhausted."

Liam made him farewells to everyone and left the party as quickly as he'd come. Scott turned his attention to Isaac, who had sat gingerly in a nearby chair and was staring around in wonder. "How's it been? Did you guys fight?"

Isaac turned back to Scott. "Oh yeah. It was pretty awesome. I can throw a right hook... although not very hard. I'm better with magic."

Lydia was watching Isaac carefully. "You okay here, Lahey? You've been to Court before? Do you want me to take you back to guest housing?"

Isaac blushed. A lot. "It's okay. I don't want you to have to leave... unless..." His expression grew worried. "Do you want me to go?"

"Nah," said Lydia. "It's nice to have someone responsible around in the midst of all this madness. You should get yourself some food, if you're hungry."

"You're so motherly," teased Theo.

For whatever reason, Scott didn't like Lydia's interest in Isaac. He seemed to think every girl liked Isaac which, in his head, in that moment, was a bad thing. He stood up and pulled Lydia with him. "Let's dance, Princess."

Lydia was a little surprised but glad for an excuse to move her pelvis. Problem was, the more they danced, the more Scott started to notice Lydia's pretty lips. She was wearing a blood red lipstick that really begged attention.

The idea was preposterous at first... then, after a moment, Scott laughed. What did it matter? Kira was the one he loved, and a kiss between friends would mean nothing, right? Looking down, he grabbed Lydia's face and pulled her to him. Their lips met, just for second, until Lydia backed away with a smile.

"Watch it, McCall. You're very drunk. Don't go doing shit you're gonna regret later."

"I'm fine," said Scott.

"Define 'fine,'" said Lydia wryly.

"I'm fine," Scott repeated.

"Are you crazy?" Isaac demanded coming toward them. Theo was with him. "You can't go doing this sort of thing."

""It was nothing," said Scott, who was irked to have Isaac reprimanding him of all people. "Right, Lydia?"

"But you're with Kira!"

"Relax, Lahey," said Theo. "A drunken kiss is nothing."

Isaac was really worked up. "That's cheating."

"Shut up!" Scott exclaimed. "Don't drag your crush on my girlfriend into this and imagine things that aren't there."

"I didn't imagine that."

"Enough, Lahey," a new voice growled. Jennifer Blake had appeared out of nowhere. "You're pissing everyone off. Quit it."

"Whoa." Lydia said. "You need to stay out of this, Blake. What, are you going to start a fight with a half-breed?"

Jennifer turned her glare on Lydia. "You stay out of this."

"No," Lydia said with authority. "Behave yourself or I'll have you demoted."

"Jennifer," said Theo softly. "Back off."

Their eyes locked in some kind of silent showdown. Theo wore a harsh look and at last, Jennifer glowered and stepped back. The group stared in amazement as she walked abruptly away.

"What the hell was that?" Lydia demanded. "A guardian can't speak to a half-breed like that. Not ever."

"I don't know," Theo admitted. "She gets weird and overprotective sometimes."

Lydia shook her head. "I think it's time for us to go. You're all acting crazier than me, which is really creeping me out."

Even in his drunken state, Scott had to agree. The confrontation with Jennifer had shocked him into soberness, and he was suddenly uneasily evaluating his actions tonight. He had a feeling he might regret this party tomorrow.


	69. The Strong One

Once back in his own head, Stiles felt fear set in for his best friend. Something was very wrong with Scott, and no one else seemed to notice it to the extent they should have. What could be causing him to lash out like that? And to do that to Kira...?

"Stiles?"

"Huh?" he glanced up at Ahmed.

"Dilara and Ibrahim are taking too long. Should I go check it out?" They were near this dark street the others had walked into to check the perimeter. It'd been six minutes now. It really was too long. Stiles nodded and Ahmed left him alone.

Stiles heard a strange wailing across the street and turned. There was a woman almost as ancient as Grandma Kara. That wasn't odd. Stiles had seen her before and she regularly walked up and down that street, muttering to herself. Today, she lay on her back on the sidewalk, making strange noises while waving her limbs like a turtle. Stiles sighed and cut across without fear of traffic. Reaching the woman, he held out his hand to help her out, trying not to think about how dirty hers was.

She wasn't hurt; she'd apparently just decided to lie down. She looked surprised at the help but took his hand and began talking excitedly in Turkish. When she tried to hug him in gratitude, Stiles stepped back. She barely noticed the refusal and continued chatting happily. She grabbed the sides of her long coat and held them out like a ball-room skirt and began spinning around and singing.

Stiles laughed, surprised that in his grim world, this would cheer him up. The old woman stopped dancing and began talking happily to him again.

"Sorry, I have to go," Stiles told her. It didn't seem to register.

Then she froze mid-sentence. Her expression gave him warning. In one fluid motion, Stiles spun around to face what was behind him, pulling his stake out as he moved. There was a Vampire there, yes, having sneaked up while Stiles was distracted.

 _Stupid, stupid._

"Look what the cat brought in," he greeted happily.

Stiles wasn't sure if this was actually happening or what. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered just then was what his eyes saw before him. Or, rather, what his eyes thought they saw. Because surely, _surely_ , he had to be imagining this. It couldn't be real. Not after everything.

"I hope you know who I am," he said still in that pleasant way.

And Stiles did. Stiles knew him instantly, even though he'd barely noticed him in life. There was just something in his brain that told him the name even though it didn't make any sense at all: Matt Daehler. The connection would allow nothing else. Stiles drank in every feature. The dark hair, the round face, the soft, chilling smile. And then there were the Vampire features. His blue eyes ringed in red. The pale, pale, death-white skin. The fangs...

This whole assessment took place in the blink of an eye. Stiles had reacted fast. He still had the element of surprise, his stake poised and ready. It was perfectly lined up with his heart. Stiles could tell, then and there, that he could make the hit faster than he could defend. But... What if he was the key to finding Malia?

"How are you here?" Stiles muttered.

The Vampire kept on smiling. "I've been told you're looking for my girlfriend. See, Stiles, that's just rude. You wouldn't like if I did that to you, now would you?"

Stiles felt like he'd been punched in the guts. There was no air left in his lungs. "Where—Where is she?" he stammered.

"Who?" the Vampire frowned. "Malia? She's with me, of course. Where do you think she'd be? I'm the reason she's about to start a new, improved life." He laughed at Stiles' lack of words. "I know how this must looks to you. But honestly, what were you thinking? Coming here, seeking her out. It's just not right. Besides, I don't think she wants to see you."

That sort of woke Stiles to action. He leaped forward and tried to attack, but Matt grabbed both his arms and pushed him back.

"Bad move, Stilinski. You forgot the first lesson: don't hesitate."

Stiles just barely saw his fist striking out toward his head... and then he saw nothing at all.

* * *

For Malia everything was agony.

She could feel her limbs heavy and useless. She could barely move anymore. The pain was too great. The dryness. The thirst. It was all she could think about. It took over everything else.

That first day, she'd been sure she was dead. She'd been beaten. They had won. And she would die never knowing what life could've felt like. But then she woke up in this smelly, cold, dark bathroom. Like that one from Saw. But Malia didn't understand what was happening. She didn't think anyone could be this cruel.

When he appeared before her though, she was speechless. She thought she'd never see him again. Hell, she had wished for it. But there he was. Looking well. Looking happy. Looking horrible and dead.

Why had she let him live? 'Because she loved him' didn't seem like an appropriate response anymore. Maybe she was just weak. Maybe there was no difference between her and all those other women who had been screwed over by love.

"What..."

"Hello, my dear," he greeted her like they were still together. Like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn't chosen death above her. "You look... hungry."

Malia tried once more. "What happened?"

"I happened," he answered dramatically. He had always been dramatic. Malia only didn't roll her eyes because even that much hurt. "I attacked Beacon Hills. Me and my minions. I tasted your blood. I made you mine again. Now you're like me."

So that's why her throat hurt so much. He had bitten her. _Him_. Matt Daehler. The boy she couldn't killed. The boy she should've killed. _Why didn't you kill him?_

"I know what you're thinking," he said smugly. "But I swear I didn't know."

"You didn't know what?" her tongue felt like cotton and the words came out funny.

"That you had other plans. I mean, it was kind of fast, wouldn't you say? New boyfriend, new plans, new dreams. All very selfish, if you ask me. But if I had known about Stilinski, I swear I wouldn't have turned you, Lia." That name stirred something inside of Malia, but she wasn't sure why. Stilinski... No. Her memory was very fuzzy. "You see, I was foolish enough to think that you might've still cared for me. I thought, absolutely, that Malia Tate still loved me. She'll be waiting. If she didn't kill me, she loves me." He shrugged. "My mistake."

None of that made much sense in Malia's head but she understood the reasoning. Matt Daehler had turned her into a Vampire. And now he was apologizing like he had only broken an egg on her head.

"I get that you might be a little angry," he continued. "On the other hand, you got nothing to lose now. So let's move to more important business, how's that sound?"

Matt whistled and waited. Then a woman came into the bathroom carrying a small bag in her hand. She threw the bag at Malia's feet. Malia looked down and her eyes widened. It was a bag of blood. Scarlet. Vibrant. Delicious blood.

"AB positive," Matt said. "My favorite. You're going to enjoy it, too, Lia. Trust me. You've always liked to try new things. Here's your chance. Drink it."

Suddenly she felt something cutting through her gums. She brought her hands to her mouth. Fangs. It was real. This was actually happening. She glanced back at the blood and the desire inside of her almost made her cry. Malia braced herself and turned away.

Matt seemed upset. "If you don't drink it, you'll die. The transformation isn't complete until you have tasted blood. It'll make you stronger. It'll make you better. You'll be a half-breed. You'll be the supremacy."

Malia tried her best to ignore him. Was he ever this annoying in life? She couldn't remember, but thought it was very likely. She also couldn't remember why she would've liked him to begin with. He seemed so... boyish. A child, really. Who only cared about his own whims.

Maybe all he'd accomplished was waking her to the bad parts of himself.

"Let me die then," she finally said. "Show me the mercy I refused you when I let you live." Nobody knew about that, Malia was certain. As far as the world was concerned, she had killed her old boyfriend. She had never told anyone otherwise. She'd never had the courage to admit she hadn't been strong enough.

She'd gone out of her way to find him. It wasn't hard. He'd been looking for her too. He had enjoyed every second of being a Vampire. And he wanted her to do the same. But Malia only wanted him dead. He had abandoned her because he couldn't deal with being in the shadow of the half-breeds. He'd wanted more. He'd thought he deserved more.

Malia thought he deserved a kick in the nads.

But when she saw him, so very much like he'd been in life, she didn't have in her to do it. She couldn't find the strength in her heart. It was just too much. She had loved him once, hadn't she? And all the anger and resentment in the world couldn't justify killing the boy you loved. Or so she'd thought.

She did manage to throw a few punches though. They fought. A lot. Both physically and verbally. And when she had her stake pressed to his heart, he had begged her not to. So she made him promise he would disappear. That she would never see him again. He'd agreed then.

She'd been foolish and selfish, and she was quite aware of it. She'd let a monster out in the world. And everyday she knew he was out there killing, feeding, and that every death, every loss was on her.

"I'm not gonna let you die, Lia," he said bringing her back to the present. "You should know that. After all, I owe you my life. If you don't want to drink it today, that's fine. You're going to drink it tomorrow. Or the day after that. I mean, eventually it's going to hurt so much it won't be a choice anymore. You'll beg me for a sip. I'm patient. I'll wait."

And wait he did.

Everyday he would come say hi to her and hand her a new bag of blood. And everyday it was harder to fight the hunger. But Malia fought it. Malia was determined to die, to put an end to it. She was not gonna let him win. She would not be turned into a monster. There was absolutely nothing he could do to make her drink it.

 _Nothing_.

For weeks she believed that. And now her body was so weak Malia was sure the end was near. She'd be dead any moment now. Her organs would collapse. It was almost here. It was coming, for sure. She wouldn't have to wait much longer.

Then the bathroom door opened and Matt walked in dragging someone else with him. Someone unconscious.

"Brought a little gift for you, Lia."

He set the body beside her and the first thing she noticed was that he was alive. She could smell the life in him. And then she saw his face and her heart would've stopped beating if it hadn't already. Because she knew who this was. How could she have forgotten? In her pain, in her misery, in her wish for death, she hadn't had time to think of anyone else. But now the most important person in her life was lying before her.

"Stiles," she breathed.

"You sure know how to pick 'em, Lia," Matt said dryly. "Now, I'm gonna say this slowly to make sure you understand, alright?" He brought yet another bag of blood and set it down before her. "You'll drink this or you'll drink him. Your call. No third option. If you think you can resist both, I might come back here and empty your boyfriend myself." And he walked out closing the door behind him.

Malia's thoughts screamed inside her head. A second before she thought she was certainly dying, but now she was on her feet, banging her fists against the door, crying, begging Matt to take him away, to remove him from her sight, if he could please, just please, take him away from her...

"Don't leave him here with me," she asked and asked again, for hours, but the door remained closed.

Malia let herself fall back on the bathroom floor. Her hands were shaking and bloody. Her eyes stung. She stared at him for a second, all the memories coming back to her like a flood. Everything that had been said and done. Promises and promises...

Drying her face, Malia crawled to where the blood bag was. _This is it,_ she told herself. Matt had found the one thing that could convince her, that would force her to make a monster out of herself.

Closing her eyes, she brought the bag to her mouth and sucked on it.


	70. The Impasse

Unsurprisingly, Stiles woke up with a headache.

For a few addled seconds, he had no idea what had happened or where he was. The ground was cold beneath him and there was a weird smell in the air. Sort of like... blood. Then, as drowsiness wore off, the events on the street came slamming back to him. Matt Daehler. Matt Daehler was alive! Sure, yeah, he was a Vampire, but still... Malia hadn't killed him. Why hadn't she killed him? And what was he doing in Nazilli?

Stiles sat upright, all of his defenses kicking into action, despite the slight wooziness in his head. He was in a tight room. There was very little light here; the only window had been covered with planks and only a slight crack of light was making its way through it. But it was enough for him to realize this was a bathroom. A particularly dirty one. Behind him was the toilet and to his left the cabinets with the sink. To the right was the door and, even from where he was in the dark, Stiles could tell it was locked. In front of him, through a near passage, there was a shower without curtains. And, if his eyes weren't fooling him, there was someone inside it.

Malia.

Stiles was sure, even in the dim light, even though she was recoiled in the most pathetic position he'd even seen her. Even in a crowd of a million people, he would have recognized her. And after being deprived of her for so long, he tried to drink in every feature. The dark, long, thick hair that was sticking to her face. The familiar set of lips, the arc of her nose... She even wore the black clothes he last saw her in.

Every fiber of his body told him not to, but Stiles took a step toward her.

"Stiles," she said in warning.

Oh, that voice. Malia's voice. The voice he was always dreaming about...

 _No! It's not her,_ the Trickster said. _She is gone. This is a monster, Stiles. Don't let it fool you!_

Conflicted feelings came to him, love mingled with terror, if such thing was ever possible. Bob was right. This was a Vampire. Malia was Vampire. And if he approached, she'd most likely kill him.

 _Be smart. Be vigilant. Defend yourself._

Desperately, Stiles tried to think of what to do. He'd come here to kill her. To end this evil existence. But how would he do it? Matt had taken his weapons. In none of the scenarios he'd imagined, Stiles had pictured himself trapped, defenseless, in a dirty bathroom with a hungry Vampire.

And... Looking at her now... How could he do it? How could he attack her when she wasn't attacking him? How could he kill her when she didn't look evil at all? She looked like Malia, like she'd been, like he was always seeing her in his dreams.

He took another step toward her.

"Stop," she asked and her voice sounded so weak, so hurt, that it broke his heart all over again. "Don't come any closer."

"Why not?"

She raised her head and he was finally able to see the transformation. The dark eyes he loved so much were ringed in red. The pale skin of a ghost. In life, her complexion had been tanned and so beautiful...

"Because I'm hungry," she whispered showing her fangs.

 _See?_ asked the Trickster. _This isn't the Malia you knew._

Stiles felt incapacitated, cold to the core. His heart was racing. He was terrified. The thing was... it wasn't her what scared him. He was afraid because of how much he still loved her. How much he wanted to help her. He was scared because he was now sure that there was no way he could even try to kill her.

 _I saw them,_ Kira had told him long ago. _They were still my parents. They still looked like my parents — a little paler, I guess. Some red in their eyes. But they walked and talked the same way. They didn't turn evil because they turned into Vampires. People don't just change like that._

This was it. He had come all this way just to prove to himself he couldn't keep his promise. The universe had a sick sense of humor.

"You—you haven't eaten?" he asked foolishly. His breath was coming in ragged gasps, and his head injury throbbed.

Malia shook her head almost imperceptibly. "How long has it been?" she wanted to know.

"Since...? Since you were bitten? A month," he said. "Give or take."

She made a little sound of surprise. "Weird. It felt like no time at all. Sometimes... Sometimes it felt like a lifetime though."

The grief in her voice brought him back to life. He moved. So fast even she was surprised. Stiles knelt in front of her, inside the shower, close enough to notice she wasn't breathing. He also noticed her face was almost entirely covered in blood.

Neither of them moved. His mind racing, Stiles told himself she probably would have killed him already if that were her intent. Yet that gave him no reason to believe he was even remotely safe. Nonetheless, he reached out a hand to touch her face, to make sure he wasn't imagining this. His fingers had almost reached her face when she grabbed his wrist to stop him.

Stiles head was throbbing where Matt's blow had landed, and he was strangely aware her mouth was only a couple inches away. "Malia—" he started but the Trickster made him stop.

 _Don't move,_ he told Stiles. _Look_.

Stiles looked and saw Malia's eyes were focused on his neck. All his instincts wanted to lash out and attack her now. Sternly, Stiles fought that off. Scared as he was, there was still a part of him saying 'she's not attacking, she isn't harming you, she's not going to'.

 _But she's sure as hell considering it,_ Bob pointed out.

Malia appeared to be having a internal war of her own but suddenly noticed what she'd been doing and gasped. She let go of him and tried to back away, only to find she was already against the wall. "You—you have to go..." She stammered. "You need to find a way out of here. You need to... or... or..."

The threat hung in the air but something made Stiles relax. She was worried about him. She still cared. Turning hadn't made her forget. Was she still herself? She sure seemed like it. And Malia, being who she was, wasn't going to hurt him. She wasn't a threat. She was scared herself, out of her mind with fear, and if that didn't make her human then Stiles didn't know what else could.

He was so fixated on that thought that it took him a moment to realize she wasn't saying anything either. She was studying him intently, like her eyes could look right through him. It almost — _almost —_ seemed as though he captivated her the same way she captivated him. Was that even possible? What if Vampires could possess these kinds of emotions?

 _They didn't turn evil because they turned into Vampires. People don't just change like that._

"You're... You're not going to hurt me," he said feeling so sure it shocked him.

Malia narrowed her eyes and something red started to pour out of them. She was crying blood. "How can you know?" she asked as if she wasn't sure of it herself.

Thing was, Stiles didn't know how he knew. He just did.

 _That doesn't even make any sense,_ said Bob rolling his eyes.

Stiles opened his mouth to speak when a noise said someone was coming. Malia turned very fast, shoving Stiles away hard so that she stood protectively in front of him. Matt Daehler walked in looking clean, well-fed and happy.

"I see we're all awake," he said. "You took your time, Stiles. I was worried. Just so happens I need to speak to you. Some of my, uh, employees has raised some questions."

"Why you wanna know?" Stiles asked.

"Why did you come here?"

"Because you hit me on the head and dragged me here."

Matt cracked a smile. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Why are you in Nazilli? Did you come to kill her?" he gestured to Malia. "I bet you did. Isn't it funny, Lia? He came here to kill you, but he's not gonna do it because he loves you. Doesn't that sound familiar? Ring any bells?" His voice was excited and amused and it made Stiles want to punch him even more.

"I didn't spare you because I loved you," Malia growled. "I didn't kill you, Matt, because you begged like a little girl for me to let you go."

Stiles thought Matt was gonna flip but instead he clapped his hands and laughed maniacally. Stiles was tempted to try to do a sneak attack on him, but something told him he'd probably only make it about four feet before getting backhanded. So he stayed where he was, huddled against the wall.

"Isn't she something, Stiles? You know this. When I saw her in that cave... Man. And look at her now! Still as beautiful as she was in life. Not that I should have expected anything different."

Stiles didn't know what to say to that. He'd never really had a conversation with a Vampire before, short of trading a few insults and threats in the midst of a fight. And now he was locked in dirty bathroom with two of them.

"Can you just kill us already?" Malia said. "So we don't have to listen to your crap."

"Brave words." Matt began pacing once more. "I almost believe you. But see, Lia, you drank the blood and finished your transformation because you didn't want me to kill your new boyfriend. So I'm thinking here that there ain't nothing you won't do to keep him alive."

"What do you have in mind, Matt? A brawl? You know I'd win."

"You haven't fed properly, Lia. So no, you wouldn't." He took a step toward Stiles and Malia blocked his way. Matt made a face. "Come on, Lia. We're only talking here. I want to get to know Stiles. Did you know he had the chance to kill me before? But he didn't. I think he didn't expect to see me of all people. I'm guessing you didn't tell him about me? Being alive, I mean."

"You're not alive."

"I'm a little disappointed, I confess," he kept going. "I've been told that Stiles'... good. So very, very good. He and his friends going around and taking down Vampires caused quite a stir, you know. Some Vamps are even afraid of him. Can you believe that?"

"But not you?" Stiles asked.

"When I heard it was you... hmm." Matt turned thoughtful, eyes narrowing. "No. I was curious. See, I brought Malia here because I wanted to catch one of her sisters to force her to drink the blood she needed to end the transformation. But I couldn't remember for the life of me the name of that godforsaken place she comes from. So I was at an impasse. I thought for sure I was going to lose her. She was dead set on... well, dying. But then I was told, that of all the people in the world, _you_ were in Nazilli. The one person that could help me break her spirit."

Stiles kept his face blank. Inside, he was still beating himself up over that moment of weakness on the street. And now he felt horrible too. For what he'd done to Malia. "I won't hesitate next time."

Matt smiled. "Oh, I bet. But I don't think there'll be a next time. Malia's getting hungrier by the second. How long do you think until she eats you?"

"That is not part of the deal," said Malia. "You said you'd—"

"What deal?" he cut her. "We haven't made a deal, dear. That was me threatening you. And now that you're a Vampire, there is no going back."

"Matt," she lowered her voice. "Don't do this."

"Oh, sweetheart. You don't _have_ to kill him. Although I doubt you'll be able to control yourself. But you could... let's say... awaken him."

Stiles froze and stopped breathing altogether. His brain couldn't come up with anything, nothing witty or clever. His words were too terrifying to even begin to ponder.

"You don't know what it's like, Stiles. It's... amazing. Tell him, Lia. Transcendent. All your senses are alive; the world is more alive... It's better than life. It's like being a god. Strength. Speed. Able to perceive the world in ways you could never imagine. And... immortality. You could be together forever."

That was all Stiles had ever wanted. He wished for that, wished desperately to be with Malia for all time. Would this really be the only way for them to be together?

Together forever.

The world blurred a little. Stiles didn't know if it was because of his head trauma or the terror coursing through his body.

"No." Malia said with such authority Stiles almost backed away.

"Suit yourself." Matt opened the bathroom door. "Angelique," he called.

A human girl came forward carrying a tray, her head bowed down. Leaning over, she carefully placed her tray on the ground. She lifted a silver lid up, revealing a plate with a sandwich.

"Lunch," Matt said. "Not poisoned. We need you strong, Stiles. So that when Malia finally decides to drink your blood, your strength can go to her. Now I'll leave you to it, lovebirds. Use this time to think, Lia."

"There's nothing to think about," Malia spoke in a last desperate attempt to make him listen. Stiles could see she was forcing as much defiance into her words as she could in her weakened state.

She didn't sound very fierce, though, and all her speech earned her was one mocking smile before Matt left with Angelique, leaving Stiles alone with his hungry Vampire girlfriend.


	71. The Mind Games

Once left alone in the bathroom, Stiles started trying everything possible to get out. Malia returned to her sitting position inside the shower and didn't say another word, just watching his failing attempts to remove the planks from the window. Finally, exhausted, he collapsed beside her. She didn't protest. She seemed too weak even for that.

 _Malia..._

Stiles closed his eyes. Malia was the reason he was here. He'd come to free her from this state of living death and had promptly failed, just by seeing her. Now, it appeared he might be on the verge of joining her. Unless he could think of something to free them both. He had to find a way out of here and, he knew it was crazy, but if he did find it, he'd be taking her with him. There was no doubt about that.

He looked at her, resting beside him. The red rings around her pupils. The tanned skin gone pale. But the scariest change of all would be within, the loss of her connection to her soul. That's what everyone feared the most about becoming a Vampire. The cruelty. Vampires fought because they relished the bloodshed. But even now Malia didn't want to be like that, seeking blood and violence because she enjoyed it. She had stood up for Stiles, combative, but because she was being driven by some passion, by her feelings. They were still within her, he could tell.

 _They didn't turn evil because they turned into Vampires. People don't just change like that._

 _Or maybe you just don't want to believe she's already one of them,_ the Trickster said. _It'll be too late when she attacks._

There was no question Malia needed to be fed, and Vampires almost always killed their victims to eat. But Stiles couldn't picture that of her... not the girl he'd known.

 _They didn't turn evil because they turned into Vampires. People don't just change like that._

The topic of feeding had brought his lunch to mind. Stiles made an effort to grab the sandwich and ate it all almost in one single bite. He didn't really want to starve to death. Of course, he didn't want to become a Vampire either, but this situation was quickly running away from what he wanted.

There had to be a way out of here.

For all he knew, there could be an army of Vampires out there. If they were going to escape, they'd probably only have one opportunity. They needed to make it count. And Stiles wouldn't go anywhere alone. He remembered what Grandma Kara had told him: _You should be with her. So you can tell her that it's okay. That it doesn't change anything._ That crazy old lady had known even before he could find it out.

So he'd also need to convince Malia to go with him.

"How did he know about me?" Stiles asked, trying to make conversation. Maybe talking about it would make her feel better.

"When a Vampire drinks someone's blood, he sees everything that person did, said, felt. Everything she is," Malia explained. "You'd think that would stop them, but they don't care anymore. They're disconnected. It's almost like a dream."

"Is that how you feel?" he asked the girl who'd turned because of him. "Disconnected?"

Malia set her eyes on the ceiling. "I don't feel anything but thirst."

Those dark words made Stiles shiver, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. "Malia—"

"You shouldn't be here," she told him. "Now we'll both die. Or worse."

Stiles positioned himself so she didn't have a choice but to look at him. "We can figure something out. We can get out of here. If you help me—"

"It's impossible."

"Malia," he tried again. "We can do this."

Something flashed in her eyes, some sort of memory of how it felt to be alive. "How do you plan to do that?"

She had him there. How would they get out of there? That was an excellent question. But surely if he had her with him, he could find a way. "I'm too upset to come up with a witty description about how exactly I'm gonna do it, but I will do it."

She shook her head like she could read his mind. "I would help you if I had the strength. I would. I'd break that door and kill Matt just to make sure you'd be fine. But I can't. It hurts. Everything huts."

Stiles felt like he was hurting himself. Just to see and hear how much she still cared, that she still loved him, it made him almost giddy. But he felt horrible too. Because he had done that to her, because if it weren't for him, she wouldn't be in this situation. He touched her face and Malia said his name like a warning, but Stiles didn't care. He leaned toward her, studying every aspect of the situation. A shadow crossed her face making hard to spot the red around her eyes. Instead, they only looked brown. Like they'd been, brown and infinite and wonderful, filled with love and warm and courage...

 _They didn't turn evil because they turned into Vampires. People don't just change like that._

Before she could say anything, he moved. With a hand behind her neck, he pulled her toward himself and lifted her face, his lips pressing against hers. They felt cold, like the rest of her body, but still Stiles caught trace of something warm.

Malia pushed him away quickly, her face like that of a statue. "You can't... If..." She swallowed. "We're in a pickle, aren't we?" she said, as if just realizing it.

"I've seen worse."

She blinked. "Where have you seen worse?"

He shrugged and kissed her again. From her part, there was no fighting it this time, only strength and hunger. Stiles had the distinct sensation that her enthusiasm was for something else. Trying to keep her distracted, he backed away and asked the first thing that came to mind: "How is it like for you?"

"How is what like?"

"Everything. Matt said your senses are enhanced. Do you have that?"

She made a weird face. "Hearing, seeing, tasting... Yes, I have it. My sense of smell is the most different of all. Beyond anything you can imagine. Intoxicating."

"Is that why you've been holding your breath since I got here?" The second he asked it, he knew it was true.

Malia nodded. "But right now, all of that is being crushed by..."

"Hunger," he finished for her. Yeah. They were going to have to do something about that if they wanted to get out.

They stayed in there, together, for the rest of the day. Stiles asked a whole bunch of questions, mostly because he wanted to keep her awake. He was scared that if she fell asleep, she might not wake up. She was too weak.

Time went by, too much time, and eventually the two of them had to rest. The days after that were like a dream and it was hard to know if they were really happening. In fact, Stiles honestly couldn't say how many days even passed. Maybe it was one. Maybe it was a hundred. Angelique brought his meals accompanied by Matt. They never brought anything for Malia, however.

Stiles also took the time to check on Scott every now and then. He and his group had returned from the Royal Court a bit more grimly than they arrived. Thinking about all the parties he'd been to with Theo that weekend, Scott was wondering what he had gotten himself into. He felt terrible about the things he'd done. And he was so tired. And that kiss...! The guilt was weighing him down.

"Don't worry about it," Theo told him on the plane. "We all do stupid stuff when we're drunk."

"Not me," groaned Scott. "This isn't me." But despite this claim, Scott had nonetheless agreed to drink mimosas on the ride back. His eyes went to Isaac, sitting a little ahead of them on the plane. Jennifer Blake sat by herself, like always, and Scott was a little surprised to see the guardian eyeing Isaac suspiciously.

"You're worried about him?" asked Theo.

"It's not that... I just... I can't shake the way he looked at me last night."

"Screw it, man. I think he's easily shocked."

Yet there had been something refreshingly clear and honest in the way Isaac had called Scott out. It reminded Scott of something Stiles might do. He stood up and went to sit beside Isaac where he started with an apology.

"Ah," said Isaac flushing. "It's okay, really. I mean, things were kind of crazy, and I know you weren't thinking straight. At least, I don't think you were."

"Well, here's hoping for better choices," said Scott. "And hoping no one thinks too badly of me."

"I don't. And Kira won't either."

Scott frowned, confused for a moment. "Well... there's no point in stressing her out over it. It was my stupid mistake; I'll deal with it."

Now Isaac frowned. "But... You have to tell her the truth, right?"

"It's no big deal," said Scott, surprised at how defensive he suddenly felt.

"She has the right to know."

Scott sighed irritably and stood up. "Forget it. I thought we could have an adult conversation, but apparently not."

Still, back at Beacon Hills, guilt plagued Scott. Kira greeted his return happily, showering him with kisses and hugs. And each time Scott looked at her, he was plagued by what he wasn't telling her. Was Isaac, of all people, right about it? Scott knew telling Kira would upset her and Theo agreed he should keep it to himself.

It seemed like it was all going to blow over... until later in the day, when Scott met up with Kira to walk to dinner. Her face was like a storm cloud.

"When were you going to tell me?" she demanded. Her voice was loud, and several passing people turned in surprise.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about. You. And Lydia."

He stared at her for several heavy seconds. Then the truth hit. "Isaac told you!"

"Isaac?" Kira frowned. "So everybody knows but me? No, Scott. Lydia told me. She had one of those episodes of craziness and then almost cried about it."

Scott felt exhausted. "Well, she had no right."

" _You_ had no right. Do you honestly think you could do something like that without ever letting me know?"

"Kira, it was a stupid drunk kiss, for God's sake. A joke. It meant nothing."

Her face grew pensive. "It would have been nothing," she said at last, "if you'd told me yourself."

"Lydia's crazy. You know that."

"So it's her fault?"

"Maybe it's your fault, Kira," he said without thinking. "Has that ever occurred to you? Maybe if you had gone with me—" a wave of electricity hit him square in the chest and he took a step back.

"Don't you date," she growled. "You are the problem, Scott. Drinking is a problem."

"Why won't you listen? It was nothing! Even Theo agreed—"

"Oh, if Theo agreed, then it must be okay."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kira turned her back at him and walked away. Scott stood there. He wanted to go throw himself at her, beg her to come back and forgive him. But there were too many people around. Instead, Scott took off to the only resource he had left: Theo.

"Didn't expect to see you again," he said, opening the door to her room. "What are you—Jesus Christ. What's the matter?"

Scott related what had happened with Kira. "Do you think she'll break up with me? Will she come talk to me later? Should I go to her?"

Theo was serious. "You don't think there's anything going on with her and Lahey, do you?"

"Isaac? No," exclaimed Scott. "Of course not. Right?"

Theo poured a glass of wine. Sitting there, Scott felt his wild emotions torment him. He hated what he'd done. He felt like there was something wrong with him. First he'd alienated Stiles, and now Kira. Why couldn't he keep his friends? He felt out of control and desperate. And—

Suddenly, and without warning, Stiles was shoved out of Scott's head.

His thoughts disappeared completely. Stiles had neither left of his own choice, nor had he been snapped back because of something in his own body. Never, never had anything like that happened to him. This had been like... well, like a physical force. Like a glass wall or force field slamming down in front of Stiles and pushing him back. It had been an outside power. It hadn't come from him or Scott. But what was it?

Before he could find an answer to that, Matt came into the bathroom accompanied by another Vampire. It was the Vampire Stiles had tortured that first night in Nazilli. His lips curled back slightly as he met Stiles' eyes.

"This is Elias," Matt introduced the Vampire. "He has some questions for you Stiles."

"You know how to find him," Elias said. "The last McCall. I'm getting the information one way or another. So you might as well tell me where he is."

" _You_ know where he is," said Stiles. "He's at school."

The Vampire gave him a look of pure hatred. He tried to reach out but then Malia was there snarling at him.

"Hey now," said Matt, every bit as pleasant as ever. "Everybody chill."

"Where is he going? He won't stay there forever. Is he going to college? To Court? They must have made plans for him," Elias insisted trying to get past Malia.

"I don't know what they are. I've been away for a while."

"I don't believe you," Elias snarled. "He's too valuable. His future would have been planned out a while ago. If we finish that line off, our names will be legendary!"

"He says he doesn't know, Elias," Matt said. "Let it go. You sound like a broken record."

Elias pointed at Malia. "How long are you going to keep her? We have important things to do, Matt. And you only care about your mind games. I need that information."

"This has nothing to do with you," Matt said. "Now get out."

Rage filled Elias' eyes and they grew redder. "They're bonded!" he shouted and turned back to Stiles. "Tell me now, and I'll kill you quickly. If you don't, I'll awaken you to get the information, and then I'll kill you."

"Back off," Malia said.

"Guess I'll have to kill you first." Elias tried to reach for her neck but Matt grabbed his hand.

"Enough. Get out of here, Elias. You're embarrassing me. If you lay a hand on her, I will destroy you. I will rip your head off with my bare hands and watch it burn in the sun."

Elias' fury grew. "Soya won't allow you to play house with this girl forever. Even you don't have that much favor."

"Don't make me tell you to leave again."

Elias said nothing else and marched out of there. For a moment, nobody moved or spoke.

"That guy really wants to kill you," Matt told Stiles. "I mean, all Vampires want to kill you, but him... You tortured the guy. He's been in disgrace ever since then and lost some of his status here. Now he's a joke. Soya doesn't even want to look at him. She finds him extremely pathetic now.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Stiles pointed out.

Matt seemed unconcerned. "Elias is not the one you need to worry about, Stiles. If anyone's going to kill you, it'll be the Vampire trying to keep you safe." He winked and left.


	72. The Divine Proof

The next day, Stiles decided to check on Scott again and found him in an unexpected place. He was with Marin Morrell, the school counselor.

"Scott, we're a little worried about you. Normally, you would have been suspended. I actually stopped that from happening. I keep feeling like there's something going on that you aren't telling me. Some other issue."

Scott suspended? Stiles reached in to read the situation and found it. Last night, Scott and others had been busted for breaking into the library of all places and having an impromptu party complete with alcohol and destruction to some of the property.

Scott's arms were crossed, his demeanor almost combative. "There's no issue. We were just trying to have fun. I'm sorry for the damage. If you want to suspend me, go ahead."

Marin shook her head. "That's not my decision. My concern is the why you're here. This feels like some kind of rebellion."

Since their fight, Scott had been unable to find Kira, and it was killing him. All he thought about was Kira or Stiles. Partying and risk taking were the only things that could distract him from that.

"Students do this stuff all the time," argued Scott. "Why is it a big deal for me?"

"Well, because you put yourself in danger. After the library, you were on the verge of breaking into the pool. Swimming while intoxicated is definite cause for alarm."

So it went for the next hour, and Scott did a good job dodging Marin's questions. When the session ended, Marin said she wanted him back for more counseling. As Scott stalked furiously across campus, he spotted Kira going in the opposite direction. Hope lit the blackness of his mind like sunshine.

"Kira!" he yelled, running up to her.

She stopped, giving him a wary look. "What do you want?"

"What do you mean what do I want?" He wanted to kiss her and love her. He desperately needed her. "I haven't been able to find you."

"I've just been..." Her face darkened. "I don't know. Thinking. Besides, from what I hear, you haven't been too bored."

"It was nothing," he said automatically.

"That's the problem. Everything's nothing lately. All your partying. Making out with other girls. Lying."

"I haven't been lying!" he exclaimed. "And when are you going to get over Lydia?"

"You aren't telling me the truth. It's the same thing. I just can't handle this, okay? I can't be a part of you going back to your days of being the royal prince of Beacon Hills."

If Scott had elaborated on his feelings more, on just how much his guilt and depression were eating him up and making him spin out of control... well, it was very likely Kira would have been there for him in an instant. Despite her cynical exterior, she had a good heart. Now all she could see was Scott being silly and shallow and returning to a lifestyle she despised.

"I'm not!" he exclaimed. "I'm just... I don't know. It just feels good to—"

"I can't do it," she stopped him. "I can't be with you if that's your life now."

His eyes went wide. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"I'm... I don't know. Yeah, I guess." Scott was so consumed by the shock and horror of this that he didn't really see the agony in her eyes. It destroyed her to have to do this. She was hurting too. "Things aren't the way they used to be."

"We need to talk about this—"

"You should have been ready to talk sooner, not now, not when things suddenly aren't going your way." She turned and abruptly walked away.

Scott turned and saw Theo and Lydia standing there. From the looks on their faces, they'd overheard everything.

"Chill, my man," said Theo. "She isn't thinking straight. Wait for her to cool off, and she'll come around."

Scott looked at Theo. "I feel... a little dizzy..."

Theo met his eyes, but when he did... the strangest thing happened. Because Theo wasn't looking at Scott. He was looking at Stiles.

 _Oh jeez. Not you again._

The voice rang in Stiles' head, and _snap!_ He was out of Scott's mind. There it was, the mental shove, the brush of his mind and waves of hot and cold. Stiles stared around the dirty bathroom, shocked at how abrupt the transition had been.

Yet he'd learned something.

Theo had pushed him out of Scott's head.

"Oh shit."

Malia moved slightly. "What is it?"

 _A Chimera,_ said Bob sounding amused. _Interesting_.

Stiles sat up, his mind reeling. He'd never seen it coming. Hell, no one had. Theo was a Chimera. The more Stiles thought about it, the more he could spot the signs. The pleasant personality. The tiredness he'd put on his friends. He was making them weaker so he could suck out their powers without any resistance. The alcohol must've helped too.

More to the point, what did he want with Scott? Him going out of his way to impress Lydia wasn't too out there. She was good-looking and came from an important family, and had a power no one could completely understand. But Scott? A Werewolf? Why would Theo want his magic?

Scott's behavior all made sense now — the uncharacteristic partying, weird moods, jealousy, fights with Kira... It was all Theo. He was pushing Scott over the edge, causing him to make horrible choices, alienating him and putting him life in danger. Stiles understood how Scott must've felt: he had Bob. That's what Theo was for Scott: a Trickster.

What he wanted with Scott? It didn't matter. The why wasn't important. The how was, as in how Stiles was going to get out of here and back to his best friend.

"Scott's in trouble." He told Malia everything. She heard silently as if she judged Scott's situation just as hopeless as her own. "We're getting out of here. Today. Scott's life depends on it."

"Stiles..." she hesitated. "I doubt I can take two steps out of here, even if we could get that door opened. So if you have to go—"

"Oh, no. Don't even. We're getting out of here together."

She gave him that it's-never-going-to-happen look she did so well. "How?"

Just so happened that Stiles had been working on a plan for a while now. A plan that could go very wrong. A plan she would never condone. But the only plan they had. And the only way he could think of to repay what she'd done for him. "My blood," he said. "You drink my blood and you get the strength you need to get out of here."

 _That is the worst idea you've ever had,_ Bob said. _And you've had some bad ideas._

All the color was drained from her face. Malia looked like a ghost recoiling against the shower's wall, scared of her own shadow. "No," she breathed.

"It's the only way!"

"No!"

 _Listen to her. She's right._

 _Stay out of it, Bob._

"Malia." He tried to approach, but she pushed him away.

"Don't you dare offer!" she growled. "You don't know what you're talking about. You have no idea what's going to happen."

"It's not just about us anymore," he reminded her. "Scott's life depends on this. On us. We have to do something. We're his guardians."

"We are nothing anymore."

"He needs us."

 _Stop this_ , hissed Bob. _She's right. It won't work._

"I can't," she whispered.

"He'll get hurt if we—"

"Stiles!" Malia's voice was high and desperate. "You're not listening! I'm going to kill you."

Stiles was perfectly aware that was a possibility. A strong possibility. But what choice did he have? It was this or having to watch as Theo's plans started to unravel. Stiles was trapped where he couldn't save the two people he loved the most. So Malia would have to save herself. And then perhaps she could do something for Scott. What Stiles was able to do, and would do, was give his life for the chance of them making it out alive. He would do anything.

"You won't," he said finally, trying to block Bob's protests. "I trust you."

Thick tears of blood started to smear her face. "Don't."

He went toward her and this time she didn't have a way out. "But I do. Malia, you can do this. I know you can."

The despair in her eyes became agony and Stiles could see how much she wanted to do that. She was starving, which only made everything ten times worse. It would be too hard for her to stop. It would be... well, impossible. And yet...

"I trust you," he said again.

She looked him deep in the eyes and whatever she found there seemed to be enough to make her trust herself. She kissed him, like a swan song, and then her lips went to his neck and Stiles lost every sense of himself.

Whatever doubts Stiles had had about God's existence vanished in those moments because surely, surely he was touching God when he lost himself in that bite. This was heaven. He didn't want Malia to ever stop, and she didn't want to stop either, he noticed by her enthusiasm in sucking his blood.

 _She's killing you, you moron,_ the Trickster pointed out after a while. Even his voice sounded strangely weak. _Your heartbeat's too weak, Stiles... She's killing us._

 _I don't care._

And he really didn't. This was the best he had ever felt in weeks and Stiles wasn't ready to put an end to it. Instead, he just laid back and waited for whatever came first: heaven or hell. And when he was almost, almost falling asleep, she stopped. That would've made him really angry if he wasn't so freaking tired.

"Stiles?" he heard her calling, but she sounded so far away. "Stiles! I'm—I'm so sorry... I—I couldn't... I didn't know how... Stiles!"

Stiles wanted to tell her it was alright; he felt good. If this was dying, well, it wasn't so bad at all. He felt her hands touch his face, then his shoulder. And then the world started to rumble. She was shaking him. Hard.

He opened his eyes, slightly. "Hey, don't do that."

"Oh," she breathed. "Thank God. Can you move?"

Stiles had no idea if he could move. Nor did he want to try it. "Maybe."

"I..." Malia stopped as if she was hearing something. The lock. The door opened slowly and Matt stepped in. He was about to say something when she jumped him, so fast, so ridiculously fast he never saw her coming, and broke his neck. It took about two seconds. Matt fell lifelessly on the ground. Angelique dropped her tray of food and started screaming. Malia put a hand over her mouth. "Do that again and you die." When it became clear the girl would stay quiet, Malia let go of her and helped Stiles get up.

He was a little more aware of what was happening now. He understood. They had a plan. This was their big escape. If only his head would stop spinning. Malia grabbed the sandwich Angelique had brought from the floor and handed it to him. "Eat it. You're gonna need it. Now we have to go. He'll wake up any moment." She ran her hands over Matt, searching his clothes for anything that might be of use. She found a set of keys and pocketed them. Then she walked over to the sink and pulled out one of the iron pipes with her bare hands. Finally, she closed the bathroom door locking both Matt and Angelique inside.

Together, Malia and Stiles walked out of the bathroom and into a hotel room, just as dirty as the bathroom was. They sprinted over to the door and Malia kicked it down. They stepped into the corridor and followed until Stiles could finally smell the clear air of the night. They reached an open, circular space where there was a security system of a different sort: a Vampire. And not just any Vampire — it was Elias. He was clearly on guard duty and looked as though he'd expected a boring night. Them coming out the door was a great shock.

Malia stayed where she was, letting go of Stiles. Elias came at her to stop her escape, and she stepped aside and made him trip. He turned around trying to get hold of her. She was able to dodge him pretty well. This seemed to infuriate him. At one point, she even faked him out in one direction and came at him with a surprise kick that knocked him back a few steps. His stumble gave her the opening she needed and Malia staked him with the iron pipe.

Elias' eyes widened in shock, lips parting. Even though Stiles knew this wasn't a silver stake, it might as well have been the way he fell down, unconscious.

Malia took Stiles' hand and pulled him after her. She was out of control with strength, he realized. Had she gotten all of that from him?

That was when the nausea hit him.

 _You aren't alone,_ Bob said in a tone that made clear he hadn't forgiven Stiles for his decisions. _It's all over. You've doomed us all._


	73. The Escape

A Vampire woman sprang up from behind a bush. "What are you doing out so late, Malia? Where's Matt?" Malia hesitated and the woman glanced at Stiles. "Hello. We haven't met yet. I'm Soya. I run this show."

"Well, if you're taking demands, our bathroom needs a serious wash up," Stiles told her.

She smiled but it didn't last long. Next thing, she attacked. Malia pushed Stiles out of the way and dodged Soya's initial attack. But Soya was fast. She caught Malia by my arm and swung her toward her, trying to break her arm. At last, Malia managed to duck a little and punch her in the stomach, which just made Soya angrier. She grabbed hold of Malia's hair and jerked her upright, and Malia let out a groan. Soya shoved her into a wall.

Stiles was getting ready to step in when a shout suddenly drew his attention to the door. Matt stood there, face blazing with anger. Fury radiated around him, his eyes narrowed and fangs showing. The pale skin and red eyes contrasted sharply against each other. He was like a demon sent straight from hell to destroy them. He strode toward them, and the immediate thought in Stiles' head was: well, at least we're going to die together.

Except... Matt went for Soya instead.

Stiles wasn't sure which of them was more surprised, but in that moment, he and Malia were totally forgotten. The Vampires raced toward each other, and Stiles froze, stunned at the terrible beauty of their fight. There was almost a gracefulness to the way they moved, the way they struck out and skillfully dodged each other. He would've stayed there forever if Malia hadn't grabbed his hand again and pulled him away.

"You trust me, right?" she asked, voice crazed. "That's what you said."

All Stiles could do was nod. Malia gripped his hand with more force and ran straight for the glass window in the opposite direction. The profanities that came out of Stiles' mouth when he hit the ground would have been understandable in any language. It hurt. Like a whole lot. The bushes down there weren't particularly sharp or pointy, but it wasn't soft by any stretch of the imagination. It broke his fall somewhat, though it didn't save his ankle from twisting underneath him.

Malia wasn't much luckier. She had a great piece of glass sticking out her abdomen. Stiles almost threw up when he saw it. But she didn't seem to care. She pulled it out like a band-aid and the two of them watched as the wound started to heal on its own.

She then stood up and pulled him with her. It took only one step for him to realize his ankle was broken. This was going to slow down their getaway. Also his strength was fading fast. He was still suffering from the Vampire bite and blood loss. Malia helped him limp away from the bush, and Stiles tried to pick up the pace and ignore the pain.

He almost lost hope when he saw what awaited them. Stretching ahead was a hedge maze. The sky was cloudy, but Stiles doubted moonlight would have made it easier to navigate.

"Don't worry," Malia said as if reading his mind. "I can see very well."

They circled the property just to discover an unhappy truth: the hedge was everywhere. It encircled the estate like some kind of medieval moat. Well, there was nothing for it, then. They picked an opening to the maze at random and started winding their way through. Stiles had no idea where to go, no strategies for getting out.

"Lia!"

The voice carried distantly on the wind, and Malia stiffened. "Goddamn it," she let out. "He won."

"Lia, I know you're out there," Matt called. "I can smell your bloody little friend."

With new resolve, Stiles and Malia headed down the next twist in the bushes, praying for the exit.

Matt continued his taunting. "I won't kill you, not if you give yourself up. I love you. You know that. And now that Soya's gone... Well, I'm in charge of this shit."

The path ahead of them split, and Malia chose the right hand path. It spread off into the darkness, and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. Score. He knew Matt was also moving through the maze, getting closer and closer, and unlike them, he knew the paths and how to get out of it.

"I'm not upset about you attacking me, either," he added. "I would have done it in your place. It's just one more reason why we should be together."

Another dead end spun them around, and Stiles tried to calm himself, knowing panic would make them sloppy.

"Even if you get out, where will you go?" Matt called. "Do you think they're just gonna take you back? Those selfish half-breeds? You think they'll accept you like this? You're dead to them, my dear. Make no mistake."

Malia stopped at that and Stiles could see the realization forming in her mind. Matt's words were poison, seeping into her skin.

"Hey," Stiles said softly. "We have to keep moving."

"There's nowhere we can hide from him," she said disappointed. She looked around frantically. If she could see him, Stiles couldn't tell. "Alright," she decided. "We can retreat and retreat and let ourselves get backed into corners forever. Or... Or we can go out and meet the enemy at the time and place we choose. Not them."

 _Once a guardian.._. muttered Bob and Stiles could tell he was impressed. Stiles was too. So proud he almost cried.

Malia looked around and located a tree with branches they could reach. Stiles grabbed hold of the lowest branch and swung himself up. His ankle complained the whole way, but aside from that, there were enough branches for him to get good hand and footholds. Malia came up after him. They waited.

A minute or so later, Stiles heard the faint stirring of leaves as Matt approached. He barely made any noise. He moved very slowly, very carefully, eyes roving everywhere and the rest of his senses no doubt working as well.

"Lia..." He spoke softly. "I know you're here. You have no chance of running. No chance of hiding." His gaze was fixed low. He thought they were hiding behind a tree or crouched down. Still scrutinizing his surroundings, Matt took one step forward. Then another. And then another.

Stiles thought it occurred to him to look up the instant Malia jumped. Her body slammed into his, knocking him to the ground back-first. He immediately tried to throw her off, just as she tried to break his neck again. Signs of fatigue and fighting were all over him. Defeating the other Vampire had taken its toll and Malia had had a lot of blood. She punched him in the face so hard it made his head twist.

"You. Are. Amazing," he said, his words full of both pride and battle fury. They were going to kill themselves in trying to kill each other, Stiles realized. Making his choice, Stiles came down from the tree and tried to attack Matt who pushed him away like he was nothing.

"Stiles," Malia said commanding, "run."

That was the last thing he wanted to do, but Malia seemed to fight better when she wasn't worrying about him. Stiles ran off into the trees. Maybe Malia could secure another good attack and try to— _"Ahhh!"_

His scream rang into the night, jarring against the quiet darkness. Stiles' foot had gone out from under him, and he was sliding rapidly down a steep hillside, unable to stop himself. There were few trees, but the rocks and his ungainly position made the fall painful. He hit the bottom roughly, managed to briefly stand, and then promptly stumbled and fell into water.

Stiles stared around, trying to assess where he was. On cue, the moon peeked out from the clouds, casting enough light to show him a huge expanse of black, fast-moving water in front of him. Stiles gaped at it, utterly confused, and then he turned in the direction of the city. The river headed right toward it. Glancing behind him, Stiles saw Matt standing on top of the ridge.

Stiles did a double take to his left and just barely saw a dark shape over the water. A bridge? It was the best shot he had. He hesitated before going toward it but then Malia was there to help him. Stiles could hear Matt's feet splashing through the shallow water on the bank, the sounds growing nearer and nearer. If they could just reach the bridge, if they could just get to high ground and to the other side...

Then Matt was in front of them, blocking their path. "You can't win," he said and lunged toward Malia, and this time it was clear he meant business. Pure panic shot through Stiles. He couldn't allow that. Every nerve he had was set on fire, ramping up for defense, attack, anything... anything to stop him from hurting her. He wanted so badly to save her. His whole being was consumed with that urge. He could feel it ready to burst out, ready to—

It was like a nuclear explosion going off. Ghosts and spirits burst around them. They were everywhere, translucent and luminescent in shades of pale green, blue, yellow, and silver. Stiles had let loose all of his defenses, let himself succumb to his emotions. And there were no barriers left to stop the Trickster's powers.

Matt sprang back, wide-eyed and waved his hands around, swatting the spirits as one would mosquitoes. His hands passed right through them, ineffectual. Their attack was more or less ineffectual too. They couldn't physically hurt him, but they could affect the mind, and they were damned distracting.

Malia stepped back because some of the spirits were going for her as well. Stiles grabbed her arm. "They can't hurt you," he told her. "Come on." They kept moving, trying to get to the bridge when Stiles began to notice something. Faint flashes in his periphery. An impression of faces and skulls. And a throbbing pain in the back of his head.

In this panicked state, he couldn't maintain the defenses he usually did to keep the dead away from himself. They were now approaching him, more curious than belligerent. They couldn't hurt him either, but they were freaking him out, and the telltale headache that came with them was starting to make Stiles dizzy.

At long last, they reached the bridge. Stiles could barely stand, his muscles were so weak. He made it a few more steps and then collapsed to his hands and knees. More and more spirits were spinning around, and his head was on the verge of exploding. And the annoying part: Matt was still coming.

 _Bob..._ he called weakly. _Can you do something?_ Stiles was so consumed by trying to communicate with his evil companion that he didn't notice what Malia was doing. She had climbed up onto the railing of the bridge, swinging one leg over. Stiles knew what she was doing and that froze him to the ground.

"What are you doing?" he might've asked.

Malia swung her other leg over and peered down at the swiftly moving water. Could a Vampire survive that fall? Even if she could, Stiles doubted she'd have strength left to swim against the currents.

Matt arrived at the bridge and seemed to be thinking the same thing Stiles was. "Lia, don't."

Stiles heard true panic in his voice. He didn't want to lose her anymore than Stiles did. If she jumped, she'd be lost to the both of them forever.

"Please," he begged. There was a plaintive note to his voice, one that startled Stiles. He didn't know Matt was capable of something so genuine. "We need to be together."

"Why?" Malia asked softly.

"Because... I want you."

Malia gave him a sad smile. "Wrong answer," she told him. "Again."

And she let go.

Stiles scream of panic was airless. He was still surrounded by ghosts and couldn't move. But Matt could. And he was right there, holding one of her arms, dragging her back onto the railing.

"Stop fighting me!" he said, trying to pull on the arm he held. He was in a precarious position himself, straddling the rail as he tried to lean over far enough to get her and actually hold onto her.

"Let go of me!" she yelled back.

But he was too strong and managed to haul most of her over the rail, enough so that she wasn't in total danger of falling again. Malia looked into his eyes. "I never really loved you."

The look in his eyes was outraged. His eyes stared at her, stunned, and his lips parted, almost into a smile, albeit a grisly and pained one. And then she pushed him and Matt fell into the darkness.


	74. The Loan

Stiles woke up feeling quite well, which didn't seem right. His entire body seemed to be working properly; none of his injuries seemed to be a problem anymore. He was lying in a strange bed of what looked like a motel room. A clean one.

It was daytime. He sat up. There was a chair near the window. Dia Genim was sitting there, watching him with alert golden eyes.

"What..." Stiles stopped himself. They were alone, he realized. "Where's Malia?"

"Your Vampire girlfriend had to go. Something about sunlight being lethal to the undead."

"Did she say where she was going? How do I find her? And what are you doing here?" Stiles stood up energetically. He had a dreading feeling inside of him. There was something he was forgetting.

"Relax," Dia said. "She said she'd be back at night to check on you." Dia also stood up and circled around Stiles. "She did a good job healing you."

That gave him pause. "Malia... She healed me?"

"If I recall correctly you had a broken ankle, two broken ribs, head trauma and body laceration. It wasn't a pretty sight. She found Jordan Parrish's number in your pocket and made the call. He informed me and I came as fast as I could. When I arrived..." Dia hesitated as if the memory still shocked her. "She had you inside the bathtub. Apparently... You weren't responding and she panicked. A panicked Vampire, if I ever saw one. She filled the tub with water, put you in there and then... the most amazing thing. Cut her own wrists and bled into the water." Dia's eyes glimmered with excitement. "Her magical blood healed you entirely. I've never saw anything like it, Stiles, and believe me when I say that I've see a little bit of everything."

Stiles didn't know what to say to that. Hell, he couldn't even imagine it happening. It'd be unbelievable if he didn't have his restored health as proof that it had indeed happened.

"She's going to be alright," Dia added noting the expression on his face. "She's a tough one. You have nothing to worry about."

"Did she tell you everything that happened?" he asked a little afraid of the answer.

"I certainly doubt that."

That made him feel a little better. He didn't want Dia Genim knowing so much about him, or Malia for that matter.

"I don't expect deep explanations," Dia said. "I understand it's none of my business. But you must understand the things I've seen here today change everything. A Vampire, Stiles. Like her. And what that means."

Stiles nodded. "It means we've been wrong for thousands of years." It was something odd to say aloud, but it had to be said. The whole world would have to hear it.

"It really begs the question."

Stiles looked at her. "What question?"

"If a Vampire is evil because he's a Vampire, or if that's who he was before turning?" There was a dramatic pause in which they stared at each other. When Dia was about to add something else, there was a knock on the door and Severo and Araya Calavera entered the room. Their presence was unexpected but welcome. They smiled, faces melancholy but relieved.

"Dia brought us with her," Severo explained before Stiles could ask. "I'm glad to see you're fine, Stiles."

 _What is the last thing you remember?_ Araya asked inside Stiles' head.

"I..." Stiles tried to think. He remembered parts of their escape. He remembered Matt falling from the bridge. He remembered Malia biting him and getting her strength from him. And before that... he remembered Scott and Theo... "Scott!" Stiles almost shouted. "Oh my God! I have to get home. Right now."

Immediately, three pairs of arms blocked his way.

"The Vampire asked you to wait here," Dia said. "And you still haven't told us what happened." She was someone who needed to know everything, and the mysteries around Stiles probably drove her crazy.

"There's no time! Scott's in trouble. I have to get back to Beacon Hills." It was all coming back to him. Scott's erratic behavior and crazy stunts, driven by whatever Theo was doing to him.

"Oh, now you want to go back?" exclaimed Dia. "Stiles, even if there was a plane waiting for you out in the other room, that's a twenty hour trip, at minimum. You'd never get there in time."

Stiles shook his head. After what he'd faced last night, this group wasn't that much of a threat. And he'd do whatever was necessary to get to Scott. ""You don't get it! Someone's trying to kill Scott or hurt him or..."

 _Well, you don't really know what the Chimera wants,_ Bob reminded him. _All you know is that he's messing with Scott's head._

 _But whatever his scheme, Scott's at risk!_

Removing Dia from the equation, Stiles looked up at Severo and Araya pleadingly. "It's my _Arkadaş_ ," he explained. "He's in trouble. Someone's trying to hurt him. I have to go to him... You understand why I have to." And Stiles saw in their faces that they did understand. In Stiles' situation, they'd try exactly the same thing for each other.

Severo sighed. "Stiles... we'll help you get to him, but we can't do it now."

"We'll contact the school," said Dia matter-of-factly. "They'll take care of it. I can book a morning flight the next day."

 _Will he be alright until then?_ Araya asked Stiles gently.

"I... I don't know..." What could Theo do in two days' time? Alienate and embarrass Scott further? Horrible things, but not permanent or life threatening. Surely, surely... he'd be okay that long, right? "Let me see..."

Stiles saw Severo's eyes widen slightly as he realized what he was about to do. Then Stiles saw nothing in the room anymore because he was no longer there. He was in Scott's head. A new set of sights settled in around him, and for half a second, he thought he stood on the bridge again and was looking down into black waters.

Then he gained a grip on what Scott saw. He was standing on the ledge of a window in some building on campus. It was nighttime. Scott was on what appeared to be the sixth floor. He was looking down, dizzy, almost falling. He felt so weak it was unbelievable. He would pass out any moment now.

"Are you okay, Scott?" Theo was asking from behind him. "I think you should back away from that window." But his words had the same double meaning that permeated everything Theo did. Even as he said those words of caution, Stiles could feel he was the one sucking the energy out of Scott and telling him that it was okay to be doing what he was doing. Then, Stiles felt that brushing of his mind, and the annoyed voice.

 _You again?_

Stiles was forced back out, back to the hotel room in Nazilli. Dia was freaking out, apparently thinking he'd gone into some catatonic fit, and Araya and Severo were attempting to explain to her what had happened. Stiles blinked and rubbed his head as he gathered himself, and Severo breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's much stranger watching someone do that than it was doing it myself."

"He's in trouble," Stiles said. "He's in trouble right now... and I don't know what to do..."

They were right in saying there was no way on earth he could get to Scott anytime soon. Feeling lost, Stiles suddenly had the craziest idea of them all. Which was fantastic for someone who had just asked his Vampire girlfriend to bite him... He looked up at Araya.

"You—you can get inside people's mind... you can touch their thoughts, right? Isn't that what you do?"

She grimaced slightly. _Yes._

"Can you reach into his head...? Can you help me open the bond so that I can talk to Scott? If you could reach inside his head—"

Araya shook her head. _That is never going to work. I can't reach into someone who's not actually here... let alone someone I've never met._

Stiles raked a hand through his hair, panic setting in. An even crazier idea came to him. This was a groundbreaking day. "Araya... you can reach into my mind, right?"

 _Yes,_ she said carefully.

"If—if I was in my _Arkadaş_ 's head at the time, could you reach into me and then reach into his mind? Could I, like, be the link between you guys? Or you can be the link, I don't know. Could something like that work?"

"I've never heard of anything like that," murmured Severo.

Dia, understandably, looked completely lost. A shadow fell over Araya's face. _I don't know..._

"Either it works or it doesn't," Stiles said, not even sure of what he was trying to do. "If it doesn't, then there's no harm done. But if you can reach him through me... if you can talk to him..."

In his bizarre life, Stiles had grown pretty used to people rejecting his outlandish ideas and proclamations. So when situations like this happened, part of him almost expected resistance. But the thing was, as stable as they were, Araya and Severo understood what he was going through perfectly. Crazy was kind of par for the course for them, and after a moment, she didn't argue any further.

 _Give me your hands._

"What's going on?" asked Dia, clueless.

Severo murmured something to Araya in Turkish and kissed her on the cheek. The love that flashed between them was so deep and so strong that Stiles nearly lost his resolve to do this. He clasped Araya's hands, a knot of fear coiling in his stomach. He didn't like the idea of someone being in his head, not Bob, not Araya, not even Scott, though that was a hypocritical sentiment for someone who was constantly traveling into the guy's mind. Araya gave him a small smile, though it was obvious she was as nervous as him.

And then he felt it, the same thing that had happened when Theo pushed him out. It was like the actual physical sensation of someone touching his brain. Stiles gasped, looking into Araya's eyes as waves of heat and cold ran through him. She was in his head.

 _Now go to your friend._

Stiles did. He focused his thoughts into Scott and found him still standing on the window's ledge. Now Araya had to literally talk Scott off the ledge. Only Stiles had no indication the other woman had come with him. When he'd jumped to Scott's mind, he'd lost that sense of Araya. No more tickling of the mind.

 _Araya?_ he thought. _Are you there?_

There was no response, not from Araya, anyway. The answer came from a very unexpected source.

 _Stiles?_

It was Scott's voice that spoke in his mind. He froze his position in the window, suddenly alert. Stiles felt Scott's terror and confusion as he wondered if he was imagining his friend. Scott peered around the room, his eyes passing over Theo.

Theo recognized something was going on, and his face hardened. Stiles felt the familiar sense of his presence in Scott's mind and wasn't surprised when Theo tried to shove him out again. Except it didn't work. Stiles wasn't so easy to push around anymore. Araya was with him somehow, lending her strength. Theo was still in Scott's line of sight, and Stiles saw those blue-gray eyes go wide with shock that he couldn't control him.

 _Yeah,_ Stiles thought. _It's on, asshole!_

 _Stiles?_ Scott's voice was there again. _Am I going crazy?_

 _Not yet. But you have to get down, right now. I think Theo's trying to kill you._

 _Kill me?_ Stiles could feel and hear Scott's incredulity. _Why would he do that?_

 _Look, let's not argue it for now. Just get out of the window and call it good._

Stiles felt the impulse in Scott, felt him shift and start to put one foot down. Then he started to lose his strength again. His foot stayed where it was... and slowly began to grow unsteady...

 _I don't feel so good. Something isn't right,_ he complained, a hand over his mouth like he was about to be sick.

 _That's Theo at work. Scott, you have to fight him. He's doing something to you. Stealing your strength or something like that. You have to kick him out of you. You have to fight his influence._

Fear answered him. _I can't... I can't fight him right now._

 _Why not?_

 _Because I've been drinking._

Stiles mentally groaned. Of course. That was why Theo was always so quick to supply Scott with alcohol. He had encouraged the drinking so that Scott would weaken and give him less resistance. There were a number of times Scott hadn't been able to gauge exactly how much Theo was drinking; in retrospect, he must have been doing a fair amount of faking.

 _Then use my willpower,_ Stiles told him. _I'll lend you my strength._

Stiles felt Scott build up his resolve, felt him repeat his words over and over, that he had to be strong and step back off the ledge. He struggled to move and Stiles helped him. They joined their strength together and started shoving Theo out.

Theo's face showed hard concentration that suddenly became overlaid with shock. He'd noticed Stiles fighting him too. His eyes narrowed, and when he spoke, it was Stiles he addressed and not Scott.

"Oh," Theo hissed, "you do not want to mess with me."

 _Don't I?_

"Here's a little something I picked up from Lahey."

There was a rush of heat and that feeling of someone reaching into Stiles' mind. Only it wasn't Araya. It was Theo. It felt invasive and a violation. And then, the world around Stiles dissolved. He stood in a room he didn't recognize. It was little house, decorated very much to his taste.

Stiles walked over to a small bookshelf and picked up one of the framed photos. He nearly dropped it when he saw what it was. It was a picture of Malia and him, but Stiles had no memory of it. Stiles was grinning broadly, and she too wore a joyous smile, one he'd hardly ever seen on her. It softened some of the protective fierceness that usually filled her features and made her look sexier than he'd ever imagined. A piece of that soft brown hair had slipped her ponytail and lay on her cheek.

Stiles frowned. No, this was definitely a picture that couldn't exist.

He was still studying it when he heard someone walk into the room. When he saw who it was, his heart stopped. He set the photo back on the shelf with shaking hands and took a few steps back.

It was Malia. She wore jeans and a casual red T-shirt that fit her body perfectly. Her hair was down loose and slightly damp, like she'd just gotten out of the shower. She held two mugs and chuckled when she saw him.

"Still not dressed?" she asked, shaking her head. "They're going to be here any minute."

Stiles looked down and saw that he wore plaid flannel pajama bottoms and only that. Malia handed him the mug, and he was too stunned to do anything but take it. He stared at her. There was no red in her eyes. Only gorgeous warmth and affection. She was human.

"Who—who's coming?" he stammered.

"Scott and Kira," she said. "They're coming for brunch."


End file.
